1918
by Kait Hobbit
Summary: Elizabeth Sophia Masen has everything a woman of her time could want A loving husband, a son she adores and a easy lifestyle in Chicago.But disaster is looming and soon everything she knows will fall apart as infuenza sweeps the city and her family.
1. 25 September 1918

_25th September 1918._

_254 Cherry Lane_

_Chicago Ill._

_My Name is Elizabeth Sophia Masen. My husband Edward purchased this type writer 3 weeks ago and it has finally arrived from New York (much to my dismay.) I am to practice my typing skills because he believes that as technology improves I will need these skills. (At the same time I remember that my Edward is a lawyer and not a researcher like Edna Whicker next door…oh, I have gone off upon a tangent, pardon me.) I am to use this type writer for my skills so I may as well introduce you to my life thus far._

_I was born Elizabeth Sophia Taylor 5th September 1879 in Boston Massachusetts to Anna and William Taylor. Our family lived in Massachusetts for most of my childhood with many vacations to upper New England and the occasional tour of Europe. I attended St. Elisabeth's All girls Academy in Boston and upon my graduation from such school in the spring of 1898 I ventured to Chicago to visit my elder sister Elisa who had married the winter pass. During my visit I was acquainted with Mr. Edward Andrew Masen of Chicago and following a summer of courtship we were married the following fall._

_Edward has studied to be a lawyer and it has been named one of the most prosperous lawyers in the Chicago area. We have one son, my darling Edward Anthony, born 20th June 1901. He was my first child to live past the age of 15 mos., His sister Anna Sophia dying of measles when she was a little over a year and another son, William Andrew age 3 mos., of lung infection. Both deaths left me in a state of heartache. Needless to say that when my beautiful son turned five years old, I was the epitome of a happy mother._

_I adore my son and worry with the war when they shall call him to serve in the draft. The walls of St. Thomas Boy's Academy keeps him safe for now, but with his graduation this coming winter I worry greatly and loose much sleep for his account._

"Mother I'm home!" a voice called from the front room down the stairs. "Where are you?"

"Upstairs in the lounge Edward," I replied, happy to end my attempt on the typewriter for the sake of seeing my darling son. I had just taken out the piece of paper when Edward walked through the door.

He stood a little over 6 foot, taller then both his father and myself, it was fortunate that the doors where so tall or he may have needed to bend down upon entering a room. He had some of his father's features in the face, but he looked more like my side of the family then my husband would like to think. His green eyes where bright, looking around the room and sitting on the corner of my daybed. He saw the typewriter and smiled a crooked smile he had inherited from my side of the family.

"I thought you said that you would rather where bloomers then learn to type," he said walking over to the type writer and looking at the few lines that I had just typed.

"Well I did say that but then I saw Rachel Jones the other day sporting bloomers and I decided I'd to it just to Humor your father. That and bloomers aren't that flattering for a woman like me," I explained putting a blanket over the typewriter.

"Mother, I told you not to worry about me and the draft!" Edward exclaimed reading the last line. "Have you really been loosing sleep?"

"Edward its natural for a mother to worry, we've been doing it since the Bible times," I said composed, looking up at my son with worry still flowing in my brain.

"But you don't need to worry, They say the war will be ending soon,"

"But they also say that the war could go longer and more men are needed for the draft. I will not loose you Edward," I said quietly.

"Did you know Quincy Whicker enlisted?" he asked looking over at where I was standing.

Edward has to be one of the most pensive souls I have ever met. Ever since he was a little boy, he's always been known for over thinking things, to consider other's thoughts before he puts words into action, as though by doing so he was seeing how he could use the situation at hand for his benefit and learning.

"Quincy? He's the little boy that played with you! Edna's son?" I couldn't lie, I was flabbergasted. Quincy was only two months older then Edward. "Does Edna know?" I asked trying to be as pensive as Edward.

"I don't know. He enlisted yesterday after school," he replied taking a second look at the paper I had just typed.

I walked from where I was standing next to the typewriter to where Edward sat on the daybed, sitting beside him. "Don't do that to me Edward." I pleaded, wrapping my slender arm around him in a mother's embrace. "Don't do that to me."

He inched a way and took my hand, still pensive as ever. "Don't worry Mother," he said his eyes focused into mine as he promised, "There's not a bullet in the world strong enough to go through me."

"Edward Anthony!" I started as he just kissed the top of my head. "I'm kidding mother," he said, standing up and heading to the grand piano that sat next to my window seat. "Kidding you may but I swear you'll give me a heart attack." I heard the charming sounds of his exercise as I reclined on my daybed, picking up a copy of _Sense and Sensibility._

His Grandmother Masen had bought the piano for my husband and I wedding gift. I could play a few classical pieces, the occasional opera song, but nothing as beautiful as Edward's musical abilities. I had always wondered where they came from; it was something out of the ordinary. He had played the piano beautifully ever since he was a young boy and both he and his father knew how much I loved to hear him play Claire de Lune.

I looked up from where I was reading, to see my son. The setting sun of Chicago brushed his face with a warm glow; he looked so serene just patterning with the keys as though it was something he could do in his sleep.

What ever I had done in life to give me such a son, I'll never know but I'm surly lucky I have him.

A knock came from the French style doors. "Come in," I said turning my attention to the door as Edward continued to play. Entering came one of the young maids. She curtsied and entered the room, "Mrs. Masen there is a gentleman at the door inquiring of you," she said politely. As soon as Edward heard he stopped playing. "I'll get it mother," he said standing up walking briskly to the door.

"Edward wait!" I called out as he stopped. "I need you to show Sherrie where the albums are. Your Grandmother Masen has been requesting a picture and I need you to go and take care of everything will you? And don't worry, you're father was expecting someone to come by today. It was Mr. Balckers wasn't it Sherrie, who was at the door," I through a polite smile which she understood met to agree with what I had just said.

"Yes Master Masen, just Mr. Balckers."

Eugene Balckers was a man that Edward could care less for. He was annoying and always slogged to go on about Edward was going to be a great Lawyer just like his father and graduate from Harvard and work in the Senate.

"Alright Mother," he sighed as he left through the back doors of the room to the Library where albums.

I took a deep breath and composed myself, opening the doors and entered the open room with the sweeping stairs. Sherrie had taken him to the tearoom likely, I walked down the cold steps, my shoes clamoring as I made it nervously to the room. Opening the door my heart stopped.

In full uniform stood at attention a United States Solider, with a telegraph in hand.


	2. 26 September 1918

September 26th 1918

"Mrs. Masen I presume," the solider said, giving a half bow which I attempted to return. I was shaking to horribly, or at least I felt like I was. "Yes, I'm Mrs. Masen, please have a seat," I said gesturing to one of the two chairs that sat on a Persian rug. "Would you care for some tea?" I asked, gesturing towards the buzzer that would call one of the kitchen hands to bring some.

"No thank you Mrs. Masen, I'll be brief, I have several other appointments today," he said briskly, removing his hat and sitting down in the chair beside me.

"What can I do for you sir," I asked wanting this to be over as soon as possible. "I wanted to talk to you about your son, Edward is it?"

"Y-Yes." I trembled and my heart skipped a beat. Oh the cost of being patriotic, I thought, for love of country and love of child, what do you do when the conflict?

He continued on as though nothing was wrong, trying to be polite and at ease, to make this as easy as it would be for me. The poor solider was oblivious to the fact he was doing a horrid job. "The United States Army is going to need men to fight in Europe as I'm sure you know."

"I'm sorry you must have my son mistaken for my husband; my son Edward is still but a boy," I replied coolly, trying to remain calm as my heart raced in my chest faster the Model T's in the streets outside.

"With all respect Mrs. Masen, Edward Jr. is a Young man, and his country is calling for him," he handed me the telegram which I opened quickly staring at in disbelief.

I skimmed the words picking out the words I was dreading. _Edward Anthony Masen... United States Army...Sail on the Olympic from New York to Paris...November 1st 1918. _

"He is to report November 1st? He doesn't graduate till a month later!" I said stammering. I had hit my brick wall. My son would be fighting in France in less then three months. My Nephew Alex, just a year older then Edward had enlisted last year and all Eliza had of him was an empty room and personal effects that had been sent home. I had nightmares of young men laying in foxholes and now my dear Edward would be one of them.

Suddenly the door opened and my deliverance was nigh, my husband was home.

Never was I happier to see my husband as I was now. He was a rather tall man, his hair a dark chestnut was once thick but had thinned out over the course of his marriage to my nerves. He must have just returned from the office, his briefcase still in hand and his suit still commanding authority. His dark blue eyes surveyed the room behind his oval glasses, glancing from the officer standing attention and then to me, who I'm sure looked in a state of distress.

"Elizabeth, you can leave now," he said briskly as I nodded and headed out of the room, a sense of relief rushing through my body. Edward would be able to solve this, or at least I prayed he could do so. I walked calmly out of the room, but began Running through the house and up the stairs to our bedroom. Closing the door, I flung myself on the bed, putting my face in my pillow, allowing quiet, miniscule wails to be heard as I crumbled the telegram in my fist.

I don't know how long I laid there, but I heard the door creek open as my husband entered. "Lizzie are you awake love?"

Lizzie. He had called me that ever since we met that first summer. I had been sitting on my sister's porch at her town house reading _Pride and Prejudice_ and we had struck up conversation of it. Upon learning my name was Elizabeth, Lizzie became my pet name, the name he would call me when I was at my highest point of joy and now to comfort me in my hour of dread.

"Lizzie dearest," he called out again, seeing if I was awake. "Is he gone dearest?" I asked my voice still shaken.

"Yes Lizzie, he's gone," he said in a sigh walking to kneel at my side of the bed, gently stroking my hair. I turned to face him with what I know had to be a tear strained face. "Edward what are we going to do?"

I watched my husband take a deep breath that looked as painful as I felt. "He's going to have to go to France, Lizzie."

"No," I whispered, my heart pranging. "Didn't you tell them I've already lost two children? Our family already gave a nephew, Don't they know Edward is all we have?"

"Do you remember my Uncle Martin when he came to the wedding?" he asked looking at me with blue eyes. "He served in the Civil War, in the Battle of Crooked River he fought ...who was it, Major Whitlock I think---anyway,. Edward's has been hearing stories from him ever since he was a little boy. Not to mention his grandfathers, Edward will be alright dearest. . . He'll be alright dearest." I though he said the second one for himself instead of me, but it still helped a bit until...

"But what if he isn't?" I whispered again. My husband looked into my eyes, his hands cupping my face as he spoke smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I can't promise you that he'll return healthy Lizzie, but I can promise you that he'll be taking the best care he can so you hold him again."

"He's too young Edward, He's too young," I repeated, tears coming back to my face stinging as I bowed my head on his shoulder, choking sobs. "Dearest," he sighed opening his arms to where I fit in his embrace perfectly; "Dearest, you need to lie down and get some rest, you look pale, your hairs a mess, you need some sleep. I'll tell Edward for you-"

Tell him what? That his childhood is over and he won't be able to finish school? That we'll be separated? Tell him that his mother is too weak to see him leave her and can't bear the thought of seeing his face when he learns?

"No." I said, shocked how quickly it came, looking up at my husband with alarm flashing through my eyes.

"Can we not tell him, not right now anyway," I asked, gripping my husband's shoulders looking him straight in the eye.

"He has a right to know," he said gently, putting his hand under my chin perking it up to my face "I know, but he has a right to be a child for a few evenings more."

My husband smiled at me, bending down and tenderly kissing my nose. "Alright my dear one," he whispered, "We can do that."

A wave of peace similar to the one I felt when I was excused from the meeting hours before swept through me again. "Thank you Edward love," I whispered, leaning into his loving arms. " I Love you my Lizzie,:" he said rocking me tenderly. I smiled, hoping that someday Edward would find someone who he could hold like this.

26th September 1918

254 Cherry Lane

Chicago Ill.,

Despite my beliefs, the sun rose this morning, proof that life can go on when everything you think can never change is threatened. Mr. Masen still woke up at five to read in his study before leaving to the office. Edward has left for school and I am alone writing to you, a evil piece of technology the woes of my being.

Yesterday the worst news came my typewriter nemeses, Edward received his papers and it had to be the worst experience I have ever had. Mr. Masen and I have not yet told him so last night at dinner we where forced to behave as though everything was normal the rest of the evening. Dinner was silent and as hard as Mr. Masen and I tried to act normal, I think that Edward knows something is going on that is occupying our thoughts. Edward is very pensive, I'm confident he's aware something is horribly wrong.

I hate lying to my son. He repeatedly asked if everything was all right, and when we repeatedly replied that everything was perfectly all right it was horrible. Even the soothing sounds of his piano didn't calm my troubled heart; he has to know that there is something horribly wrong. But I can't tell him. Each time he asks us, in a way it is similar of having a prang hammered deeper and deeper into your heart.

Mr. Masen and I have decided that we need to tell him sooner then later. Honestly more Mr. Masen then I. If I had it my way, we'd never tell him anything and he could stay oblivious to these surrounding storms that are closing in on him. We're going to the opera tomorrow for a special treat, and my dear husband thinks the following day we will tell him. I don't know how I can take it. What do you say, little typewriter, at a moment like this, when you can't find the words to tell it like it is?

What do you say?


	3. 26 September 1918, Evening

Chapter Three

26th September 1918

I looked at the last sentence I had typed one last time, the question still lingering on my mind. What am I to say to my son? I sighed, not knowing what to do as I picked up the paper and through it into the heating oven in the corner, the words burning so Edward would never snoop and see what I had written.

The house was silent, the only sounds I could here where the crackles from the fire and the songs of the blue birds outside. It was in the daytime that I felt most lonely. I knew I should probably call on Edna next door and see how she was dealing with Quincy's enlistment. I waked out of the room and started to head to my bedroom to change into my day clothes when the doorbell suddenly rang. I jumped possibly a result of the events last evening. "Sherrie," I called out for our handgirl. "Sherrie!"

It occurred to me that Sherrie had not yet arrived for today, which was quiet odd. She usually caught the 5 'o'clock trolley from the South side of Chicago and then arrived at the house no later than 6. She stood about five foot five with beautiful cascading red locks, icy blue eyes and a fair complexion. She was Edward's age, but having grown up in an orphanage after her parents died shortly after emigrating from Ireland of cholera had made Sherrie grow up quiet fast.

I though of her some times as the Anna Sophia that I had lost all those years ago. She smiled as much as she had, in the 4 years she had worked for us helping with the house work and keeping me company during the long hours of absence I was alone throughout the day, including joining me as I called on Edna as I planed to this morning.

Another reason that I was so jumpy, as someone continued to knock on the door. Lonesomeness. And the fear of not having my friend there with me when I opened the door to what could be another military personnel with another, more urgent summon for Edward.

I looked into the mirror that hangs above my vase of flowers. I looked somewhat decent for a call nine in the morning. I pulled my night coat on, covering my pale blue nightdress as I walked down the stairs into the cold front entry.

I was suprised that someone was even calling, the drapes where not even open, I made my way, slyly moving my fingers to see who was calling.

Standing in the cool morning air, a thin coat covering her shaking body and a small suitcase in hand stood Sherrie. Waiting ever so patiently for me to open the door.

I leapt to open the door, overjoyed it wasn't an order for Edward's departure. "Sherrie!" I smiled, truly glad to see my companion, hugging her friendly as I opened the door and she walked in.

"S-Sorry I'm late Mrs. Masen," she replies sleepily. I drew the curtains allowing light to fill the room, switching on the electricity. "Oh it's fine Sherrie dear, come, I'll fix you something for breakfast," I smiled as I led the way to the kitchen. She walked slowly behind me, but I was oblivious until she sat down at the table exhausted.

"Sherrie dear, did you not get enough sleep?" I asked looking at her for the first time.

She looked paler then usual, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, she continued to shake slightly from the cold, but all the same, our Sherrie looked ghastly, and probably felt that way too.

"The younger children at the orphanage have been sickly lately. Last night a few of them where up to all hours throwing up and sweating. Mother Wince asked if I and a few of the other girls would help her take care of them and w-we did, but I didn't get to bed till 3 this morning. Then I woke up at six missing the trolley, I'm so sorry Mrs. Masen, it was most unprofessional," she said yawning in the end.

"Oh Sherrie, It's quiet alright," I said pouring her a cup of tea, "Here this will help you," I said "Milk or sugar?" I asked, the usual question knowing the answer. "Both please," she asked slightly smiling. "Mrs. Masen, Mother Wince is closing the orphanage until the sickness ends and I know this is very unprofessional but could I stay with you and your family until it passes? That way I can still work for you."

"Of course Sherrie dear," I smiled as she sipped her tea, "But you will be of no use today, you look like a zombie. I'll take up your bag and as soon as you are done with your tea and muffin, they're on the counter still, I want you to go up to the guest room and sleep."

"But Mrs. Masen—"

"No excuses Sherrie. I can entertain myself for one day believe it or not," I lied to myself, as I lifted the light suitcase and exited the room. "Thank you Mrs. Masen," Sherrie sighed as I left, a smile crossing my face.

Our home was quiet large when it came to rooms. Mr. Masen's parents had purchased the house for us shortly after our marriage, and had it in good size, most because Mrs. Masen Senior had desired grandchildren in large quantities. The house was full of many rooms: A master bedroom, a study for Mr. Masen and a Suite for me where I would usually be found listening to the tunes of my Edward. In addition, there were 4 extra bedrooms. One had been a nursery for my children which was now Edward's study, a library that had come with the house, a guest room and Edward's Room.

I walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door, opening the lilac drapes, and cracking the window to let air into the room. Setting the suitcase on the ivory chair in the corner, I pulled out a fresh water basin filling it with some water from the water closet and set it on a doily upon the night table. Opening the modest wardrobe, I pulled out one of the old white night gowns my mother had made me.

I walked to the door and looked at the room, hoping that Sherrie would be able to find some rest before she too would succumb to whatever illness had befallen the orphanage she had served throughout the night.

Sherrie was walking down the hall, looking as tired as ever. She entered the doorframe and looked back to where I stood. "Mrs. Masen, this is really too kind of you, I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you," she gasped here eyes wide and her voice sincerely tired. I looked at her with my motherly eyes. "Just get better and that will be payment enough," I smiled. "If you need anything at all Sherrie, I'll be in my room trying to play the piano like Edward, will it disturb you?"

"No Mrs. Masen, if anything it will help," she replied wearily as I closed the door and headed to my suite. Upon seeing the piano and typewriter my memory was jogged back to my son and his unknown future, and my heart dropped once again.

"Have you told your Mother yet, Edward?" Quincy Whicker asked as we walked down the streets of Chicago, back to our neighborhood following another tedious day of school. "I don't know Quince, have you?" I responded look at my friend walking by my side. It was an abnormally warm day for this time of year, the sun beating down upon us as we walked down the city sidewalks in our School Uniforms, Suits of course which held in the abnormal heat more then would have been favored.

"I'll take that as a no," I responded to my friend. I had known Quincy since I was young, I knew his 'No' silence from his 'Yes' silence all too well. . . Mother says that I'm quiet 'Pensive' and 'Observant' around people, which is probably true. I like to think of it as a gift, if you know what one is thinking, you have a better chance to use some form of rhetoric in your favor. Not that I manipulate people, but it is nice to have some little advantage in the conversation.

"Well I figured you haven't told your mother yet either," Quincy snapped back as we walked. Qunicy was known for his temper and it looked to me as though it was beginning to warm up in this heat and heated conversation...

"Technically, I haven't enlisted _yet,_" I replied smoothly, watching his face grow purple in the sunlight.

"Oh no you don't Edward Masen! What did we decide?" He started to cough horribly, then regaing composure enough to simply stare me down. I probably should stop antagonizing him, I thought watching him get angry.

"_We _decided to see the world after graduating. _You _decided to do it while fighting a war," I pointed out, as we turned the corner. I had always wanted to see the world, my family had made one or two trips to Europe but on both occasions I was young and it then seemed rather boring. The idea of going with my best friend since childhood seemed like a wonderful idea, but I didn't exactly plan on seeing France from a foxhole.

"Are you having second thoughts Ed?" Quincy asked his face rather white, "I'm not going to go off if I don't have my buddy there with me."

"Quincy—I, I don't think I could do that to my mother," I replied quickly , ducking my head slightly to look at the ground. Yes, I was my mother's little boy, all of my friends knew it. She was quiet alright with the thought of me finishing up at St. Thomas's and then going off to the University of Illinois, or the University of Cairo. Anywhere that would keep me out of the dangers of the World War that was sweeping us all into it's path of destruction. I thought it was a responsibility that all the young men held to serve their country but my mother had already lost two children, I knew I was all she had left, and I knew what a telegram telling of my death would do to her.

"And you think I wanted to do this to My Mother?" Quincy asked, a hurt look crossing his freckled face as he began to cough again. Quincy was about as tall as me, only with blonde curls and blue gray eyes, which where now starting to stir up into being a storm. His fan club from St. Ann's would surly want to strangle me for causing him anger, I was quiet sure. "Your papers are going to come sooner then later Ed. Jimmy Swan got his draft orders yesterday, leaves in November for France."

"We really shouldn't. All of us are still 17," I pointed out to him. "Well—our orders will be to report to England for training probably. You know, learn basic strategy and all, how to fight off the Huns and build a nice little foxhole." Quincy started, "What ever the case, people are getting called up. You can leave if your seventeen on your own will you know, just have to have parental consent."

"And you really think our Mother's would consent to that?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my voice, "My father has three sons. My older brothers are going to take over the family business. If I could gain a high ranking in the Military, he wouldn't have to worry about having to leave me anything to take up. Mother knows this, and she knows he'll consent to my going so there's nothing really stopping me," Quincy pointed out "You on the other hand, I doubt you'll get the signature."

"When do you leave?" I asked, looking through the crowed at a mother and son crossing the street at 34th and South Williams. "I have one more form—of parental consent— to mail out and then they'll issue my dates. I'm almost set on waiting for the draft to come to the house, that way mum will _have _to agree." He rolled his eyes as we reached another corner, then with enthusiasm he jumped up swinging around the light pole turning to me smiling " And there we'll be, off seeing the world..."Coughing, he steeped down, as though he was hacking up a lung.

"Just how I planned it too, a week on a crowded Hospital Ship, eating soldier's rations and seeing all the war torn countryside of France, just how I dreamed," I smiled crookedly as we walked across the street and entered into the neighborhood.

We walked continually in silence, my mind reeling with what I was going to tell my mother. She had made it clear she'd sneak me over the boarder and probably would too, so I had no hope of going to her for a signature. My father, well if he thought it was what I wanted, he may sign, but I was sure he wouldn't want to give that heartwreching news to mother. My whole life, it had just been Mother, Father and I, yes Sherrie was there to as an unofficial sister, and I grew up at Quincy's just as much as my own home, but I feared how mom would react to mine and Quincy's enlistment. Quincy had actually enlisted two days ago and had greatly pressured me to do so as well, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to it. Like there was something dark and looming in my future, but it wasn't the draft my mother feared, it was something worse.

"So are you going to tell her?" Quincy asked as I reached my door. "We're going to the Opera tomorrow night," I sighed, my parent's where under the misunderstanding I loved the Opera, just because I had enjoyed one show, mother thought I loved the theater of melodies. "I'll tell them then."

"Alright then," Quincy smiled, coughing one final time, this time bending down and supporting himself by holding his knees as he began to cough a storm. "Quince are you alright?" I asked noticing my friend did look a bit off color. "Ah, Its fine, probably what Michael has, I'll be alright," he waved as I entered the door.

"Mother," I called locking the door behind me, "Mother, I'm home." The house was abnormally silent. "Mother, Sherrie, where are you?" I called, walking into the back dinning rooms where a letter rested next to a vase of wildflowers.

Darling Edward— 

_I have gone to the market with Edna to pick up something's for dinner. I should be home about an hour after you. Sherrie is resting in the Guest Bedroom, she seems to have fallen ill but don't worry, you can play your piano if you wish. _

_I'll see you by 4:30_

_Love—_

_Mother_

I set the letter down next to the flowers, taking off my coat jacket. I headed up the stairs entering the room with the piano and the typewriter.

I sat down at the second, examining the new machine as to unlock its mysteries. We had to write one paper on it once for a class at school. I figured I could type one little note that I would burn as soon as the time came.

September 26th 1918

I am preparing to tell my mother that I wish to enlist in the United

States Armed Forces. I do not wish to tell her this, but it is a line of

Duty and honor I wish to accept. I hope Sherrie will remain here for mother

And shall continue to stand as a companion for her throughout this time.

For mother's sake, I will return. Alive and in good health. I promise that.

Other then that, nothing large is happening in my life. Although I'm sure that

I am soon going to be experiencing a cough, my best friend and Sherrie have both

Seemed to fall ill. None the matter, there are more important issues at hand in which

I will have to face in due time. Winds of change are looking on the horizon and I am

Quiet sure that they will effect us all.

It's all in due time.

I read the note over once, ripping it from the typewriter's clasp as I made way to the iron stove mother kept in the corner, throwing it in the burning coals as it the corners curled and the words themselves disappeared. I heard a cough come from the guest room, another strangled cough, one that seemed to be fighting for air. _Sherrie._ My mind whirled as I walked down the to the room seeing a closed door.

"Sherrie," I knocked, "Sherrie can I come in?" The horrible coughing continued. I opened the door, she was sitting up in the bed, pale with faint color in her cheeks, her thin hands covering her mouth as she continued to cough, and cough, and cough.

My eyes where wide as I just stood dumbfounded in the bedroom doorframe. _What in the world---what cold is this?_

"Water" she said in between coughs, her eyes pleading to me. "What? Water?" I asked gaining movement in my Legs. She nodded yet again, as I walked over to the water pitcher mother had on the nightstand, pouring her a glass. She was still coughing horribly, shaking her whole body. I put the cup to her mouth as her own hands too the glass and she began drinking it with the coughs dying down slowly.

"Are you alright Sherrie?" I asked, as her coughs ended, standing at the foot of her bed like a gentleman. "Do you want me to call Dr. Morris?" I offered in concern.

"I'm...fine Edward," she sighed, deeply breathing. "I don't know what's going on, I must have gotten the sickness from one of the little ones," she realized, more talking to herself then to me. She thought for a while and then saw me standing, remembering my presence.

"Master Masen, you must get out of here," she warned pointing me to the door. "You must not fall ill yourself, you mustn't."

"Sherrie, is there anything I can do for you?" I asked. If this is what Quincy had, I thought, then I hope its nothing to horrible. "You can leave for one, don't want you to fall ill yourself, and Edward—" she started, "Could you play your piano for a while? It helps." I smiled and nodded, as she waved waved me away. myself walking out the door, shutting it silently heading to the lounge when a knock came from the door below.

_What the devil, _I thought as I made my way to answer. There stood Quincy, I was sure, a loud coughing giving away its owner before I could see his face.

I was right, I smirked to myself as Quincy entered the house. "Quince—what's the matter with you?" His face was paler then it was just a few minutes ago. "They're closing St. Thomas'—"coughing again interrupted "— for a week." He said handing me a note he must have taken from a phone call minutes before.

"What?" I was once again taken aback, "Ed I'm going to head back I'm not feeling well," Quincy said as he motioned to the door. I followed, coming to his side at the front steps so he wouldn't fall to the ground in his ill state. "I'm fine Ed," he tried to shake me off, trying to get free of the support I was offering. "Don't think I'm going to just watch you fall down, your sick and you need help home, there's no shame in that." He gave in as we made it next door to his house.

_For the love of all things good in this world, _I thought to myself as we stepped up to the front door of Quincy's house, _What is this that everyone is getting???_


	4. 27 September 1918

**Alright, the site is finally working again for submissions (victory dance) so here is the much promised chapter four. Thanks to UIL being over for the year, I will be able to update more frequently. So pardon the shortness of this chapter, a longer one is on the way!Kait Hobbit**

_

* * *

September 27th 1918_

_ 254 Cherry Ln._

_ Chicago Ill._

I_ fear we will never be able to have a normal dinner conversation again. The silence of the 25th's dinner rolled into yesterdays, only Edward was the one who seemed to be silent, as in deep thought. "Edward, how was school?" I asked. "It was alright mother, but I won't be going tomorrow, the board's closed it due to illness." I was shocked. What sort of illness could cause a school board to close it's doors? Then I remembered probably the same illness that would cause an orphanage to do so as well. "Quiet a few in my class have been ill, Quincy was sick this afternoon, I had to walk him back to his house."_

_"There have been a lot of sickness going around," Mr. Masen replied gravely from the head of the table. "My sister, your Aunt Catherine telephoned the office today. Apparently your grandmother is ill with a form of flu."_

_"Oh Eddie," I gasped. His mother is a strong woman, that's for sure but is any elderly person strong enough to battle influenza? "Well, it's nothing too bad, very contagious though from the sounds of it, half her neighbor hood seems to have fallen ill somehow. I'm going to check up on her tomorrow during lunch Lizzie; Edward if you'd like to come your more then welcome, seeing how tomorrow for you is empty." A smile finally flickered on Edward's face. "Sure father, does that mean I can come to the office with you?" I cringed inside, realizing that this meant that I would most likely be spending the day at home alone again. Mr. Masen smiled responding positively so I too played a smile._

_"You two are to not fall sick," I instructed them, "I can't have my men both ill, your both positively irritable when so." I joked, although it is the honest truth. Edward is as irritable as a bear for the first few hours before falling into a sickly sleep, something that he doesn't get from my side of the family... Mr. Masen did appear a slight shade of pale, I think he may be developing the illness but nothing to worry about, this is My Eddie, he can take anything._

_Dinner seemed to pick up from there. We did the dishes as a family due to Sherrie's absence, Which resulted in all three of us being covered head to toe in soap suds and water. My boys can be so much like little children if opportunity presents itself, and heaven's knows it brings laughter into my life._

_The evening was spent in a peaceful manor. Edward got out a record and Eddie and I danced to a few of the show tunes. Oh how I love being held in his arms! It was so funny though, we where trying this new step in which he dips me but he did to quickly which landed both of us on the floor holding on to each other laughing the laughter that I love. Oh to know that my Edward will find a girl that will make him laugh like his father makes me will be the highlight of my life. But I always seem to find myself thinking will someone ever be worthy enough of my son? Oh poppycot that's the thought of every mother isn't it? As long as he loves her and she him—there isn't anything I can do. Edward fell asleep on the couch reading from Oedipus Rex for school, while Eddie and I sat in the rooftop gardens._

_The gardens have to be my favorite part of the house next to Edward's Piano room. The roses are giving their last bloom and Mr. Masen and I sat up there looking at the stars and while doing so just simply taking time to be together and literally smell the roses. Oh Eddie... sorry typewriter, that's just my husband for you. He is a romantic. He tucked a daisy behind my ear (he knows its one of my favorite flowers) and then started to sing softly into the night. He'd never admit it but he has a very lovely music voice. Oh how I love my husband. I don't know what I would do without him. He's been this form of a romantic as long as I have met him. Some women are lucky when they marry, they marry a kind gentlemen which I did, only I have a kind, and loving one. My dearest Eddie. He seemed rather clammy though while we where on the roof, I begged him to go down but he is stubborn, a trait that I see our son has developed all too well. Nevertheless, all is well with that._

_So this morning at 7, Mr. Masen and Edward headed off to the office. It is quarter after five now, and they should be home within a few hours. Before he left though, Mr. Masen left a fresh vase of daisies downstairs for me with a note for when he and Edward will be home. I'm so lucky to have married such a man aren't i? The Opera is at 7 this evening and I am both looking forward to it while dreading it. Looking forward because the opera is Carmen one of my favorites while dreading telling Edward about his papers. I spent all yesterday afternoon talking to Edna and she doesn't have the foggiest idea of Quincy's enlistment, it took all I had not to tell her. The house is all but silent, except for the sounds of ragtime playing on the gramophone._

_Oh, Sherrie is coughing again. I hope she'll be all right tonight, I'm having Emily, Edna's usual companion come over to watch her tonight. I'll go check on her and make sure she is all right. Good bye for now my little typewriter... don't tell Mr. Masen, but you're not as big of a menace as I first believed. Maybe this newfound technology will help me in life—don't tell him I said that, remember._

* * *

I looked at the paper smiling. It was true. For an iron device that I was sure at first was an instrument of torture, it was growing on me. Especially the little ring sound it made when I took a paper out, For some reason or another it made me smile.

Still smiling I walked down the hallway to Sherrie's room where she had now stopped coughing. The poor girl had been abed for two days now, she was coughing and sweating horribly , burning with fever. "Sherrie dear how are you doing?" I asked as I wiped her face with a damp cloth, trying to cool her down.

"Mrs. Masen, I feel horrible," she replied, her voice hoarse. " The heat is unbearable, could you open another window?" she asked, looking towards the bay windows.

"Sherrie, they're all already open, I opened the last one while you where sleeping," I answered, dabbing the cloth in more water and repeating my treatment. Her eyes filled with horror, "No, there has to be more windows," she was panicked. "Are you sure?"

"Relax Sherrie," I soothed. This illness must be horrid whatever it was, I looked at my young friend who's face was pale except shades of red fever in her cheeks burning like fires. Her blue eyes where icy and sharp as they searched the room for anyway to cool her, stop the sweating that had her red curly hair sticking to her skin.

"Mrs. Masen, I don't think I'm going to make this," she said, gripping my hand tightly.

"That's ridiculous Sherrie, of course you—"

"No, Mrs. Masen you don't understand. When I was asleep I dreamt of my Mother and father. They where waiting for me in our old home in Ireland, as though they where waiting for me to come home from school. Mother was making my favorite dish while Da was sitting in the front room reading the paper. Even my little sister Lettice was there, and she died of Cholera before we left Ireland as well as my brother Tommy. I'm not going to make it through this illness." Each word she spoke was full of assured confidence, strangely met with peace on her face.

"By the time you all return from the Opera this evening, I will be back with my parents and my siblings, and I'm alright with that Mrs. Masen. You and your family have taken good care of me, and I appreciate that. You all have been the family I've lost and I know my Ma and Pa appreciate it more then I could say. Would you please tell Master Edward that I've loved his piano playing throughout my illness? It has sorta made dying more pleasant—"

"There will be no more of this feverish talk Sherrie, you are going to make this," I said trying to hide my worry and tears behind equal confidence. "Emily is going to stay here while we are away tonight and take care of you if you need anything. I want you to take two of these pills, they'll help you get some rest, I'll call Dr. Morris and see if he can stop by but Sherrie Kathryn Keely you are going to survive this illness, you are not dying and you can tell Edward yourself once you get better." I said squeezing her hand as I got up and left the room.

I flew down the stairs to the kitchen, ringing the phone for our family Doctor. Doctor Morris was old in years but had nursed me back to health after all my pregnancies and throughout Edward's childhood and teenage years. "Doctor Morris Please," I spoke when the receptionist answered the phone. "Dr. Morris isn't in at the moment, may I take a message?"

"Yes, this is Elizabeth Masen, I've been with Dr. Morris for many years, will you tell him I called?" I asked then an idea popping into my head. "Wait a minute, you may be able to help me. I have a maid here who has been experiencing coughing and sweating Spells. I've been giving her some Aspirin and sleeping pills, is there anything else I should do? Do you know what this is?"

Silence came from the other end, "Mrs. Masen, I would advise that you take your maid to the Hospital immediately, she fits all symptoms of the Influenza that has been sweeping the city."

I stood aback, "That is ridiculous, there is no influenza sweeping the city, if there was there surly would be some report in the papers." I thought to myself, _have I read the papers lately? _" In addition, its not the influenza, or she would have thrown up already," I was turning sharp. I wasn't sure if it was the uncertainty of Sherrie's illness or not wanting to believe that she needed to go to the hospital. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time. Please Tell Dr. Morris that I would appreciate _his _diagnosis of the illness immediately." With that I rudely hung up the phone.

What, I thought, is going on? Suddenly the phone rang again. _That was quick Dr. Morris, _I thought, picking up the phone. "Masen's Residence, Mrs. Masen speaking," I answered politely.

"Mom." It was Edward, his voice frazzled, instantly putting me in worry, "Edward, what's wrong? Are you and your father all right? Where are you?"

"We're at Grandmothers, and _I'm_ fine, but father," he's voice trailed as though he was worried, "What is it Edward," I could feel my heart racing in my chest.

"Mom you need to meet it us at the Hospital, father's collapsed."

Time.

It passes at its own rate. It cannot be accelerated or decelerated just by the begging of a broken heart. Time will not permit itself to be turned back, no matter the pain running through the soul. It passes, as it was doing for me. With each passing second I could feel my heart racing while thoughts of my husband collapsed on the floor filled my troubled mind.

I can't remember what happened next. I only looked at the bushel of daisies that Eddie had left on the cupboard with his note, blood pounding in my ears, I ran out the door.


	5. 27 September 1918, Evening

I walked through the doors to the hospital in a haze. I couldn't remember much of what had happened over the course of the last hour, from the time that Edward had telephoned me to meet him. Edna's eldest son, Samuel had escorted me to the hospital in his Model T so I wouldn't have to walk all the way to find news of my husband...

Mr. Masen—my dearest Eddie...

He had been all right this morning. He said he had a headache, but nothing more—then again he had coughed a few times in the night, but surly—what was going on? Was I about to loose my husband? Where was my son? Thoughts of funeral processions ran through my mind in a mist of blackness, only to be cleared away with the sight of Edward waiting for me infront of a desk.

He ran into my arms like when he was a little boy. "It's alright darling, I'm here now," I soothed, rubbing his back gently. He pulled away and looked at me with troubled eyes, "Mother, Father has—"

"Are you Mrs. Masen?" a beautiful voice asked from behind Edward. We both turned to see a tall man who I must admit, looked absolutely handsome. His facial features where charming, his eyes a rich topaz color, his hair a heavenly blonde; his lips where cast in a shape of a brilliant smile that made the stars appear dim, I wondered why an angel would be working in a place full of death. My voice returned to me to reply, "Yes, I'm Elizabeth Masen."

He walked towards Edward and I, taking my hand in a handshake. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen, I've been working with your husband since his arrival..." I felt his hand, it was alarmingly cold—as though he had stuck in a pale of ice before coming to meet us.

"Dr. Cullen has tried his best," Edward assured quietly, it wasn't helping my nerves that my son was using the past tense when talking about his father. I chose to ignore Edward's comment, thinking that surely, this was all a horrible dream in which I would soon be waking from and everything would be well.

"May I see him please Dr. Cullen?" I asked, looking absolutely frazzled I'm sure. The events in the past hour had been tearing me apart. Upon Edward's phone call to me at the home, I had ran next door, I hadn't even stopped to put on shoes or a coat, I neglected even wearing a hat, barging into Edna's home.

"_Edna," I had called, "Edna!" Suddenly my friend walked down the stairs from what seemed to be Quincy's room, she had been nursing him all day, some horrid cough similar to that of Sherrie's._

"_Edna, will one of your sons take me to the hospital," I asked my voice high and panicked._

"_The hospital?" her eyes where wide, "What's wrong? Is Edward alright?" I knew that when she said just one name she was referring to both. I was trying to be strong but the worry was beginning to pull me apart. "Edward called from his grandmothers just a moment ago," I said all too quickly though a cracked voice,  
"Eddie collapsed on the floor, there taking him to the hospital and Edward wanted me to meet him there," Edna's thin had rushed to cover the gasp that had just escaped from her mouth._

"_Is he alright?" she asked, her eyes as wide as saucers, "I don't know," I sighed, then one of her sons, Samuel, walked down from Quincy's room. Edna went into full military status as though she had to send in rescue troops "Sam, get the Model T out, I need you to drive Mrs. Masen to the hospital immediately," My eyes began to water. "Thank you Edna," i said through tear eyes, "Don't you worry about a thing, Emily will go over now and watch Susan"_

"_Sherrie," I corrected quietly, "Yes, her. Now you take my coat on the rack and there's some shoes next to the door, we can't have you going into the hospital barefoot."_

We drove to the hospital in silence and there I stood still after all this flashback, thinking of my husband still as I asked, "May I please see my husband?" A pained look hit his eyes, as though both he and Edward knew something that I didn't, something that they where trying to prolong in fear it would cause me pain. The Angelic doctor seemed to sense my worry, deciding to calm it, he answered "Yes Mrs. Masen, please follow me..."

We entered one of many rooms I'm sure that all looked the same. Chicagans laid resting in cots, sleeping, hacking, the smell was nauseating. We exited the room only to enter another one similar to it, only slightly less nauseating. In the beds, people lay asleep, some coughing horribly while others held a peaceful expression on their face as they rested—they must either be recovering or, have passed on.

That's how it was when we reached _the _bed.

I think I will always be able to remember where it was. Bed number twelve, facing east, a window showed the stars beginning to pop up in the night sky.

We stopped at a bed where slept a man that was white as the sheets, and I realized what Edward had been trying to tell me now. It became crystal clear.

I knelt down at the bedside of my husband. The cold floor didn't effect me, I felt cold the moment I saw him. With shaking hands, I gently ran my hands through his chestnut hair one last time, it was still as thick as it was the day that we married, or so I was imagining it was, I could still smell the spice that lingered in it—cinnamon and ginger. I stopped, taking off the glasses that still rested on his face as though he had just fallen asleep, neglecting to take them off as he usually did in his study. My hand still stroking his face lovingly, but they pulled back for a moment, his face was cold.

I grasped his hand.

_He was cold._

"Dr. Cullen," my voice was cracking, "My husband—Has my Eddie?" I asked, looking from my husband's serene, pale face to the face of the man standing at the foot of his bed. He obviously had to have broken this sort of news a lot lately. "Mrs. Masen, I'm sorry but Mr. Masen died shortly after arriving here. He seemed to have had a strand of Influenza he most like contracted from his workplace; work, stress, exposure to the elements—I think that's what finally killed him. "

I knew that my husband was dead the moment I saw him lying in the bed. I knew that, and yet, it didn't seem he was final until the doctor said it aloud.

It was then that the tears truly started. The floodgates where opened as I sobbed, my head lying down on the bed next to Eddie's cold hand. I tried to grasp it, thinking that surly he wasn't dead, and if I just held his hand really hard, my dear husband would wake up. He'd wake up and this will all have been just a rude, cruel joke. We'd go home, get dressed and go to the opera. Edward wouldn't go to his draft, and we'd be a family. "Eddie, wake up," I cried, "Show them that you're alright," I plead.

"He can't be gone. He was as fit as a fiddle, last night we danced in the parlor, remember Edward—daddy and I danced to Ragtime and missed a step and fell?" my voice was cracking, "Then he held me under the moonlight, he isn't old enough to die, he's only forty-six!" I looked at my husband's set face, my tear falling from my own cheeks to his. "It was like we where in love all over again, just like everyday has been for the past thirty years" I could tell I was stammering, "Eddie. Was. Fine"

I knew I was hitting delirium.

I felt two strong hands on my shoulders, I turned to see my little Edward, gently lifting me up, pulling me away from my dead husband. "Daddy's gone Mummy," he whispered quietly, calling me what he did when he was a young child. "We need to go home—" he said pulling me away and standing up. My tears disappeared and I turned to the doctor who looked embarrassed for still being present during this family disaster.

"Mrs. Masen, I think that you and your son should stay in the hospital. You've both been in contact with this disease I'm sure," I looked at my son, who had suddenly taken the on the role as the family patriarch and was realizing it s the minutes ticked on.

"Dr. Cullen, I can't keep my mother here when everyone is dying," he said faintly, protectively still holding me gently. " I want to take her home immediately. We have Uncle Peter in the countryside, has a farm in Indiana, we could stay there until everything is all right. We'll leave as soon as... Proper arrangements have been made," he told the doctor, I could feel Edward shaking, I didn't know wither it was over the death of his father or if, if he too— Oh, Lord, not this, not—

"Edward, you look pale," I said looking at my son. Suddenly I realized the doctor was right. All three of us had been taking care of Sherrie for the past two days; his school had been closed for illness; Quincy had been ill all through the night Edna had said this morning; his grandmother was probably dying of this illness; and Edward Sr.,— Eddie had just died.

"Mother I'm fine," he said faintly, unconvincing to both Dr. Cullen and I. "I'd feel much better knowing that you two where here, just for tonight. If you feel fine tomorrow morning when I get off duty, I'll personally escort you back to your home, I'll even escort you to this country home, but You can receive some treatment here, just in case."

The angelic doctor seemed rather convincing. It may have been just out of shock for just loosing my husband for the thought that I may soon be loosing Edward too, I spoke "If that's what you think is best Dr. Cullen, we will stay."

He called for a nurse who led Edward too some fresh cots with nightclothes lying on them. I turned to the doctor who had been at our side since I arrived. "Dr. Cullen," I turned to him carefully, "Yes, Mrs. Masen?" He said with genuine sympathy showing in his face for what had just happened to my son and I. "Will you do me a favor?"

The doctor seemed a bit shocked, "I'll try," he said his lovely voice matching my in silence, " I know that I have only known you for this half hour—but Will you be the one that takes my husband to the m-morgue? I'd feel better know that it was a friend taking him there, and you've been like one since our arrival."

He smiled a sad smile, "Yes Mrs. Masen," he said quietly, looking into to my eyes kindly, "I'll do you that favor." I smiled weakly, "Thank you Doctor," I replied, then turning to where my son was now sitting pulling a night shirt over his head before turning into the bed. His face had a fake smile plastered to it, as though he was trying to give me assurance that all was right and we'd be at home tomorrow morning for breakfast.

And yet, he still looked pale, slightly sickly. He looked as though the moment I fell asleep tonight, he would too. I didn't know weither it was loosing his father that had cause this change in him or if he was truly ill.

"Doctor Cullen," I called out again to the man who was about to walk out the door, "Yes Mrs. Masen,"

"I—I know that you probably get this from all the mothers who come in with sick children but—Edward is all that I have now, will you try your best to keep him healthy, keep him alive?" my voice wavered one too many times in the course of the sentence. "I will Mrs. Masen, I'll try my hardest," he answered as I smiled a Thank You and walked away to where my son was hiding his illness.

_Dear Lord, _I prayed quietly to myself, _don't let me loose my son too. _


	6. 28 September 1918, Early Hours

_I was walking in a green forest, it's terrain rugged, branches pulling at my hair, fallen trees ripping the bottom of my skirt. It was dark and cool, but I could hear the trickling sound of what must be a river, and a light, a clear and bright light was coming like a ray of heaven out of the trees ahead._

_What ever I was doing hiking through a rainforest in a long dress gown, I will never know. But it was the stupidest decision I had ever made, I looked at my dress, it was white, or more actually it had been white. The knees had been grass stained, as had the elbows, dirt was ruining the downward trim. Forget what my mother in law thought, this was surly an occasion for bloomers._

_I walked towards the light, still with no mercy from the trees above my head, poking at me, my dress falling apart at the hem, I was sure that I looked like a total mess, what would Edna say? The smells of the forest where like the world after a fresh rain, the cool air crossing my face. I was a foot from the celestial light, my head finally breaking through into what must be a meadow._

_The meadow was beautiful. A little opening in the devilish forest, this meadow was a Godsend, it's beauty perfect, the blue sky was offering home the sun shining, it hit my face with an unexpected warmth. I looked to the right side of me where the stream was, merrily bubbling away with contemptment. And there sitting on the banks of the river sat a young woman with long hair, brown with slight tints of red reflected in the sun. I could hear her laughing, her hands moving as though she was stroking someone's hair. I walked a little bit on the outline, to see what she was doing._

_Then I saw her face, well part of it. From what I could see, she was quiet beautiful. Very Beautiful to be exact, fair ivory skin and charming eyes. She was smiling, eyes full of mirth looking down at her lap where rested a young man—his bronze hair being run through the fingers of the young woman, a smile crossing his face, a crooked smile. I felt as though I was imposing on a lover's embrace, the sound of their voices, gentle and lovely, as though both held the other in the highest of love and esteem. And then I looked at the young man, who had just extended his hand up to gently brush the young woman's cheek looked so familiar, that smile that laugh—_

_It was Edward,_

_And he was sparkling,_

_He was sparkling like a crystal prism hit by the sun, his bare chest reflecting as though diamonds had been crushed into the skin and was readily reflecting in the sunlight. The Young Woman seemed not to care about that as he bent down to whisper something to him that made him laugh a booming laugh.. one that seemed to shake the holds of the meadow . He then looked up at her and pulled himself up, both of them where staring at me._

_Edward with a smile as large as I've ever seen finally spoke , "Mother," He called out, "This is Bella,"_

I woke up with a feverish start, rising immediately with alarm looking at my son in the bed to my left. His face was pained with the fever that was raging within him. The room was dimly lit, in hopes allowing patients to get sleep while doctors could still go about their work. I got out of bed, walking over to where Edward was tossing and turning.

His skin was pale, but, I was relieved, it was _not _sparkling.

I took his hand gently, it was warm, but then again, so was my own I was sure. I caressed it gently, hoping that he would be able to relax and find some calmness in his sleep.

"Edward—Is there a young girl you haven't told me about?" I whispered to him, knowing that he couldn't hear me. I started stroking his hair, similar to how the girl had done in the dream. "Think of her Edward, think of the girl—Bella—I dreamt you where with. You where both so happy, you're both so in love..." I couldn't help but smile bitterly, _would he live to experience a love like his father and I had? Would ever have a love I dreamt he was experiencing, with the girl in the meadow?_

"Now Edward Anthony, I don't mean to sound like an old prune, you and I both know that's your Grandmother's job," I laughed, as I took the damp cloth that rested on the night table and began to nurse him like I had Sherrie. "But you and I both know that it's _very _improper for a young man to have his shirt off when with a young lady," I couldn't help but laugh.

"Mark my words, as soon as you get well again we're going to visit my brother William in Carolina—I will not have a son sparkling. I think the sea air will be good for your health too," I still laughed with a shudder, maybe the northern weather was doing something to his skin that would cause it to be—different.

"She seems very pretty, I wonder why you haven't brought her by for dinner," Then I raised an eyebrow, still cooling his face with the cloth. "You can tell me Edward, do I embarrass you too much? Well forget the matter, of if I do or don't, your bringing her to dinner the moment we get out of here, but _I _wouldn't go tell your grandmother, I think in my dream she was wearing bloomers and we know what your grandmother thinks of young women and bloomers."

"She looks like she loves you Edward," I smiled as though this girl—this Bella— was real, and that they where really in love. "I hope you take care of her and she you. But don't feel like you have to rush into things, be like your father was to me, remember that love is gentle and unselfish, it's kind, and leaves you blinded as though a shooting star just entered your night sky."

I looked at the daisy that I had brought from the house; resting next to the glasses I had taken from my husband before they rolled him away. Trying not to choke, I continued "Remember That you should never get cross over silly matters and even the big ones don't be too quick to blame each other. Don't do anything stupid when you think everything is falling apart, And above all else remember to always say I Love You, every time you part because you'll never know if it's the last time you'll be able to say it. Say it when you're angry and say it when you're overjoyed, and when you say it mean it."

I looked at his charming face, "Oh my baby," I sighed, dipping the cloth one more time to see if it was any colder then before, "You're going to be all right, you hear me?"

I could hear some echoing footsteps behind us and I turned to see Dr. Cullen approaching the two of us. He looked like a walking beacon. If angels escorted you to heaven, I'd be under the influence we had both died, but his expression of disappointment was more then an angel could ever convey.

"Mrs. Masen, you need to go to bed, I'll call for one of the nurses for your son," He said, gently taking his hand on my shoulder.

"Look though doctor, he's not struggling anymore, he's peaceful," I smiled making the observation. Edward had stopped moving and was breathing deep, yet rugged breaths.

"When he was little, he had the measles. I was worried sick, I had already lost two children I wasn't ready to loose my baby that had lived to be seven years old," I explained lost in my Edward's face, which was relaxed at last. " I stayed up all night with him for three days, nursing him, trying to get it to where he wouldn't struggle in his dreams. His father, Eddie—he did the same thing you just did, he said 'Lizzie, there is no use for you to work yourself to death. You need to go to bed and let me take care of my son, I can't risk loosing both of you.'" I smiled slightly, remembering Eddie's worry. "But I persisted. I stayed up rocking him in the chair his father had bought me when he was born, I would sit on his window seat with him at night and show him the stars and soon, Edward was as strong as an ox when he got well again. He didn't die, but he survived," I let my confidence stand, and I'm sure the doctor understood what I was getting at.

"Mrs. Masen, this illness is more infectious then the measles, I beg of you please let us take care of Edward and you," he pleaded looking at me with his gentle topaz eyes.

"Please Doctor Cullen, realize that I will not allow myself to heal until I know that my son is out of harms way," I answered, staring at him with hard emerald eyes. "It's a mother's instinct to think of her child's health before her own," I responded as I put my hand on Edward's forehead. "Even if it puts the Mother's health in danger. Her life is worth nothing if her child dies."

The beautiful doctor smiled and gave a nod, pulling something from his coat pocket. "Well, at least let us help the Mother," he opened my hand and put in it a teaspoon and a container of medicine. "When he wakes up, give him two of these and call for me and we'll take his temperature. But please Mrs. Masen, try and get some rest yourself."

He left me there sitting on the side of my son's bed, with some medicine, some hope for an absolution, as the night hours began to tick on.

* * *

I could hear a racking cough echoing the room as a ripping feeling crashed through my chest. _The poor soul, who's suffering that, _I thought. As I continued to feel the crashing weight on my chest, I gasped for air to breathe and that's when I realized that I was the one who was coughing so horribly.

"Mother?" I heard a small voice to my left. There sitting up the best he could in bed was Edward. He looked as well as I felt, something I would loved to erase from my memory. "Yes dear" I said, feeling chills run through my body.

"I'm sorry you're ill. I should've insisted Dr. Cullen let us go home," he said shaking his head, obviously disappointed in himself. "Edward—we would have gotten sick if we had gone home too remember?" I sighed, "Fate has dealt us an unlucky set of cards, that's what Quince would say," He sighed, "We'll just have to see how the game is played, won't we mother?" he asked in a quiet whisper before he began to cough horribly yet again, only this time blood clots came up too as he coughed, and coughed. And coughed...

"Edward!" The moment I saw the blood in his hand, I thought of Eddie how he laid still in the bed as a dead man. I looked at my son's face, his beautiful, loving face, shocked and for once, scared.

"Mother, what's wrong with me?" he asked his hand shaking as he looked at the blood in his hand. I stood up instantly, leaping to his side with the damp cloth in hand. "Nothing dearest, you're fine," I assured him as I wiped his hand clean, clean and pale. "Lay down sweetheart," I sighed, sitting on his bedside and humming a quiet lullaby.

"Is the doctor still here?" Edward asked his eye closed. "I think Dr. Cullen only works in the evenings Edward, his shift ended at eight this morning..."

"What time is it now?" he asked trying to hold on to his consciousness. "It's about two in the afternoon.

A pained look crossed his face, I didn't know what it was for, what thought had entered his mind but I gave my comforting smile as I rang for a nurse who could give Edward some bit of medicine—some hope of healing, hope for living.

I think she gave me sleeping tonic. The instant that Edward fell asleep, not coughing but almost as though hew as entering a dreamless slumber, I too slipped between the waves of reality, where I was lost from the world as the fire of the influenza spread within my body.


	7. 28 29 September 1918

**Alright, here is our next chapter... A bit of Elizabeth and more so, Dr. Culle, dear ol' Carlise POV... come on, we all know he is seriously going through some deep thoughts. I hope that the sight is working, I know several of y'all have not gotten any alerts (ditto here). Thanks for reading and the constant support, it really helps! ok, enough rambling. . . on to chapter seven eh?**

**_Kait Hobbit_**

* * *

I awoke to the faint whispers of a methodic voice, "Margaret, get some fresh linen on bed three, Susana, I need you to go to the storage room and pick up some antitoxin, we may have to give it to some of the patients tonight." My eyes opened, my breath still hoarse was taken aback once again by the presence of Dr. Cullen. He looked so beautiful, so unhuman. Was it possible to be that handsome and still be mortal? Of course it is silly, I thought, there is no such thing as Immortals on the world; unless in which case there are and he's an angel sent form the heavens to save Edward.

I do believe in Angels, I thought, praying diligently as though If I prayed hard enough, he would be one and I could rest assured my son would survive.

I watched silently as the doctor stood over my son, gently bending down with his stethoscope to take his heart beat. He continued his medical examination, checking to see if his neck was swelling; obviously there was something to smile about, possibly good news I hoped as I watched the doctor smile a small faint smile as he wrote some instructions down on Edward's chart to be carried out at the times he had designated.

"Are you ready for your check up Mrs. Masen?" Dr. Cullen asked, not looking up as he finished writing his instructions.

I was started, he hadn't looked up, I hadn't said a word and yet _he knew I was staring at him. _Maybe coincidence, I thought, but this was an uncanny one.

"Yes Dr. Cullen, I think so" I said, only having my voice crack through half way my sentence. He smiled and placed his stethoscope above my heart. Only the chill that was to accompany it was very, very faint. The fever must be warmer then I had thought.

"Well you're heart is beating beautifully, a little harder then I'd like but under your condition I believe there maybe a chance of survival," he smiled, making a note on his board.

"What about for Edward?" I asked immediately, forsaking that news that would make the normal person relieved.

The doctor didn't let his smile stay on his face however hard he tried. "Well, he's not doing as well as I would hope, but I think that he could pull through this."

I believed him. Why shouldn't I? "That's my little boy, he can pull through anything," I smiled faintly as I began to cough again, blood still accompanying.

"Consumption." I whispered, looking at my dirty sheet that I had used to cover my mouth. "Is that what I'm dying of Dr. Cullen? Is Consumption killing my son and I?" I had had a great Aunt who had suffered the disease and I knew its course all too well. Of course if it was the disease of the lungs, it would have been better for Edward and I to have gone to the country.

"No, I'm afraid that this is much stronger then that illness," Dr. Cullen sighed. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the corner of the bed to sit and explain life to me. I nodded politely, wanting to know what was going on.

"What has been going around Mrs. Masen is a disease that the doctors in Europe are calling the Spanish Influenza. It's a form of flu but it can also leave those that have it to cough horribly, and eventually they can cough up blood. If the victim does not receive proper medical attention there is a chance their lungs will collapse and fill in with blood from being damaged by the virus, making the victim quiet literally drowned in their own blood—similar to the Ebola virus, but not quiet as fatal—thank heavens. Other symptoms include vomiting, intensive sweating spells, and I have read in the papers of people changing blue but I have only seen that in a handful of victims here in Chicago." He recited looking at me with those warm topaz eyes that alone where trying to tell me that everything was going to be alright.

"Is sparkling a side effect as well?" I asked, my hoarse voice cracking. "Sparkling?" he raised one of his beautifully arched eyebrows.

"Never mind, I had a nightmare and Edward was sparking like jewel... obviously I had to much medicine right Dr. Cullen?" I watched as his face seem to cover up something. I don't know if it was laughter or fright, so I continued on with a new topic, "What are the chances of survival for this influenza?" I asked, trying not to expose my creaking voice.

"There is a small percentile of survivors," he answered with an equally quiet voice as though he was trying to hide the truth.

"Dr. Cullen, Don't let me survive if Edward won't make it," I asked. Breaking the silence that had formed while he had finished his diagnosis.

"Both you and Edward have excellent chances of recovery," he said while he unintentionally frowned.

"Dr. Cullen, I'm a mother. I can see right through your comforting assurance that is as fake as can be, but thank you," I whispered, "Is your family well? I mean, none of your family is sick of this are they?" I asked trying to change the subject form my sad existence that was dwindling.

"I have no family," he answered with a faint grin. It wasn't a happy one, but he was trying to act as though I hadn't' offended him.

"Not married?" I asked shocked. How could a man this handsome and intelligent be unmarried?

"I just haven't found the proper girl yet," he grinned, "This profession, although very attractive in salary, just doesn't allow me enough time to be a good husband I'm afraid. Someday though." Although he sounded very convincing there appeared something in his eyes as though he knew that this girl was most likely never to be.

"What about your parents," I asked, "I'm sorry to pry," I added quickly, "I just need something to distract me from Edward's illness."

The kind doctor smiled, "My mother died when I was born. My father, he was a Pastor in London for his whole life. I was to continue his parish but I was more interested in medicine. So when father died, I left England and have been a doctor in America for several, several years now." He explained.

"I'm sorry to hear about your family and I know that I keep on prying but, do you ever miss them? Your mother any ways, do you miss your mother?" I was wondering if Edward would miss me should I die, I knew that he would feel loss, but would he miss me?

"From what my father told me of her, yes I do," he answered quietly. " I think that I am much more like she was then my father would like to admit. I would pay gold to have a relationship as strong as your son has with you with my own mother" he grinned, patting my hand.

"And for that bond to continue strong, I must ask you Mrs. Masen to remain strong, remain alive for your son," his eyes penetrated my own. "That means, I'm asking you to let us nurse both of you back to health; can you do that for me?"

Against my will, I felt my head nod as the doctor smiled. "I'll check on you two in a few hours. But until then, I must ask that you will sleep. Please, sleep."

I nodded again and he got up from the bedside, making a note on my chart and headed out the room to another patient. I closed my eyes and once again fell into an abyss of sleep.

* * *

**_Dr. Cullen's POV

* * *

_**

I walked away from the two beds that I had been watching attentively since the occupants of them arrived. Thankfully, both mother and son where now lost in a deep sleep. The fevers had yet to break. The son, Edward, I was convinced would probably not live to see sunset. The illness was raging in him like the fire that had consumed half this city decades ago. He had to have lost three pints of blood since his arrival three days ago. Thank Heavens that the blood was weak. It seems to have a sweet aroma to it, warm and welcoming like a feast. My eyes where still topaz, I didn't worry about having to hunt—I didn't want to hurt these souls, they had already had to go through enough pain without help from _my _illness.

I didn't want to be the one to break the news to Elizabeth when Edward passed on.

I didn't want to be the one to discover that he had died.

I know it is wrong, but I've grown attached to these patients since their arrival. The circumstances for meeting two such people, I wish could have been better, but I have grown attached. Elizabeth with her emerald eyes that seem to shimmer in the light, she has a kind, gentle demeanor, warm and welcoming. Inquisitive—very much so, but in a way that doesn't drive one crazy...and her son, Edward, he seems like a very charming boy. Very protective of his mother, wants the best for her and is extremely kind and loyal. I was drawn to him, as though he was the sort of boy I would have wished to call son should I have had a son. He has a kind face—he gets it from his mother.

Yet with each passing hour, the face shows a new sense of pain running through him. It twists his handsome face. I get goose bumps at the thought of what should have happened should they have returned home following Edward Sr.'s death. They would be dead by now that's for sure. Between Elizabeth's constant nursing of Edward and Edward's condition worsening, They would have surly died.

I haven't told Elizabeth yet, but when I got off duty this morning, I stopped by their home on Cherry Lane. She had asked me to check on her young companion, A Miss. Sherrie Keeley who had fallen ill to the disease two days prior to the Masen's themselves showing symptoms of the influenza. When I reached the house Mrs. Masen's neighbor let me it, I made my way up to where Mrs. Masen had told me her young companion was residing.

The hallways leading up to the room where silent, no sign of life at all. The walls where decorated with paintings of European hillsides, and the occasional framed photograph of the Masen's in happier times, Edward sailing in a sailboat as a child, Mr. and Mrs. Masen as a young Married couple. At last I discovered the young girl in the bed upstairs, white as the sheets she laid in. She was dead. Her face resting in a way I've only seen the dead able to compose, peaceful, but still haunting of what led them to their death. I couldn't begin to guess how long she had been in such a state, I called for an hospital crew to come and take her to the morgue.

At this time Mrs. Masen's neighbor rushed to the house to have me look at her son, who had not yet risen from his sleep. The young man was in a rest similar to that of the young woman next door. I'm afraid that Edward's friend had also passed away. So I returned from work with two deaths fresh on my mind. A beautiful young Irish girl, and a young man who had everything to live for but died before he could take it.

I hate staying inside while people I care for are dying. I stare at my walls to my apartment across the street from the hospital. I see the cars bringing in victims that I can't help because I am 'sleeping.' The apartment is fair enough, a small kitchen that's never been used, a bedroom that has a couch and daybed that never gets used either and then my study, which is probably the only room put to use. Books, thousands of books that have been collected through my over hundreds of years... my friend Aro gave me a whole chest full when I left for the Americas a hundred and twenty years ago, they are probably among my most used. But even they can not seem to console my worry as I sit infront of my window looking at the shadows as all these people walk into the hospital who will probably not walk out.

My thoughts return to Edward and Elizabeth, lying in a state of comatose; waiting, just waiting for death to come and 'steal the honey from their breathe.'

I didn't want to be there when they died.

I didn't belong to be so drawn to them as they lived either.

But I needed to, I needed to be the one taking care of them. I needed to be the one who carried them to the morgue like I did for their husband and father. I needed to be the one. There was no other option, they either had to pull through this or let death take them.

_You have forgotten the third option Carlise._ A voice whispered as a menace in my mind. _You know Carlise, you could always make _them_ your family, _it hummed. _Yes, Elizabeth looks twice your age—but as a vampire, would it really matter? She could play the role of a wife—and Edward seems like the perfect son, why not let this family live on as your own???_

I thought it out. Elizabeth had asked why I hadn't married, I honestly didn't think marrying a mortal was the wisest thing for a vampire to do, but if she where to be a vampire as well—_"It was like we where in love all over again, just like everyday had been for the past twenty years!" _Her voice rang through my ears as I remembered her kneeling by the body of her dead husband. Was it right to rob a dead man of both his wife and son? I cleared the voice from my mind. I wouldn't change Elizabeth, she deserved to live, but if she was to die, she deserved to be with the husband who she loved.

The clock chimed, it was 6:00; I was on duty. I had lives I needed to save.


	8. 29 30 September 1918

**AN: Alrighty, I don't know if any of the alerts are currently working but I thought you might want the next chapter... It's a wee-bit sad, we find out about Sherrie, and Quince... and Dr. Cullen is giving Mrs. Masen Edward's diagnosis... Oh well, happy (if that's possible) reading!**

* * *

"Mrs. Masen," I could hear a young voice saying my name as I was being risen from my sleep. It was a young girl's voice that made me think of Sherrie, which prompt me to ask out for her, "Sherrie? Is that you?" Oh my dear young friend, if she had pulled through this and came back to nurse me, I swear I'll see to it that she has the best life possible—

"No Ma'am, I'm Kathryn, Kathryn Bourne," I opened my eyes to see a young girl dressed in a gray nurses uniform. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a French braid that went down to her lower back. She had gentle green eyes, she had to be the same age of Sherrie; the young nurse continued to speak, "Mrs. Masen, you need to eat something. Dr. Cullen says you won't get better if you don't try and get something in your stomach.

"Has—Has Edward?" I asked, I knew she understood what I was asking. "Yes, I just finished feeding him, Dr. Cullen's just giving him some more medication right now; he's a fighter Mrs. Masen, he's doing just fine." The girls voice was starting to grind on me. How did I know that what she was telling me wasn't the same thing she had told all parents in this hospital.

I turned to see Dr. Cullen taking Edward's pulse. I had to hide a gasp as I looked at my son. He looked horribly ghastly. If I hadn't known that my son was in the bed next to me, I wouldn't believe it. He was so pale—his movements so slow and small—this wasn't my Edward, it couldn't be. I looked from my son's face to that of Dr. Cullen who was still taking his pulse, his mouth was grim. He couldn't hide the truth from me with that: Edward was dying. I knew it now, I believed it.

We would not be walking out of this hospital together.

"Mrs. Masen, please open your mouth, you need to have some nourishment," the nurse called to me, as I turned to quickly and she dropped the spoon full of broth on my bed. The broth wasn't steaming hot. It fell on my right hand, sending a chicken smell all over the comforter.

"Oh—" she covered her mouth quickly. "I'm so sorry ma'am. Let me just—" she quickly took the top blanket off my bed and went to work finding me a fresh clean one.

"Mom—" I heard a voice call from my right. I turned and tried to smile so he wouldn't be afraid, "Yes Edward?" I answered with a bitter smile twisted on my face. "The poor nurse is rather klutzy isn't she?" he asked with a laugh in his raspy voice. He started to cough horribly. I looked at Doctor Cullen who seemed to be going through great amounts of pain seeing my son loose his strength, almost the same amount of pain I was going through.

"I'm sorry I'm sick mother," Edward said, taking a drink of water that Dr. Cullen had by the nightstand. "I'll get better soon though—remember what Grandfather Masen would always say, there's nothing strong enough to beat a Masen—"

"It's not your fault dear," I paused a minute, "You're right—I'm sure you will be better in no time flat" I sighed, getting up from my bed and walking to his weakly, a look of disapproval coming from Dr. Cullen who I knew would insist at any moment for my immediate return to my own bed. Surprisingly though, Dr. Cullen made a note on his board and mumbled "I'll be back in a while." I understood, the doctor didn't want to impose on any family time we had left. I sat on the side holding my son's hand—wondering what if any comfort I could give him.

Then an idea seemed to rush to my head.

I looked into my son's face, his eyes where the same. He still had those healthy, beautiful green eyes that he had inherited from me, they held some hope, some hope that he was going to make it, that this was just a horrid dream and he'd soon make it.

"Edward, you wouldn't happen to know a girl named Bella would you?" I asked raising my eyebrow.

"Bella?" he asked, the name was foreign to him, it appeared that way now. "I—I don't think I do, why?"

Story time had been my favorite time of Edward's childhood. I could remember as a young boy, I would sit in my rocking chair, with him sitting on my lap –he had to have been four or five at the time—and reading to him stories of Treasure Island, Oliver Twist, Huckleberry Finn. His eyes always seemed to have a glow about them for learning. This new name was the start of a story to him one that he was ready to hear, anything to distract the two of us from the reality that was surrounding ourselves, posing to strike us at any moment.

"I had a dream a few nights ago—our first one in here I think, I was walking in a forest and I came to a clearing. There sitting in the clearing was yourself and a young girl that you called Bella—I was just curious to wither or not you had a secret sweetheart and you weren't telling me." I watched as a crooked smile danced on his face. He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Trust me mother," he smiled, "I'm sure that I couldn't hide such a sweetheart from you." His voice seemed to have some strength again. Yes he still looked ghastly, but maybe the thought of a girl whom he loved would give him strength.

I began to persist. "Are you sure?" I raised an eyebrow, "Because the two of you where being rather intimate together for just friends— Did I mention she was stroking your hair and that you were not wearing a shirt..."

"Mother," I could see a slight shade of pink rush to his cheeks. "I think you have had too much medicine during your stay here—it's effecting your mind and thus your dreams—" I watched him roll his eyes. "Just out of curiosity—did you dream me up a beautiful girl?"

"Edward Anthony you do have a secret love!" I mocked in a small whisper; the small circles of pink seemed to be getting brighter with each passing remark I made.

"No—of course not, That's Quincy remember?" his eyes suddenly lit up as though he was remembering something very important.

"Quince—Mother, Quincy had a horrible cough the day before—the day before Father..." it was still too fresh on his mind, too fresh on his heart. "Well, Quincy has this influenza or whatever Dr. Cullen is calling it. Is he alright? Has he been admitted to the hospital yet? He hasn't come to visit and I wasn't awake has he?"

"No, he hasn't," a voice chimed from behind us. I looked to see Dr. Cullen standing at the corner of my bed that had a new comforter on it. "He hasn't come to visit or he hasn't been admitted?" Edward was getting testy—irritable. Oh I knew this was going to come with his sickness, as always—I had been waiting for three days and here it was.

"Neither of those," the Doctor replied.

"Is Quincy all right?" Edward asked his voice low, eyebrows knit together. _Please, _I began praying to myself. _For Edward's sake—let Quincy be okay. Quincy has been Edward's best friend since they where little boys, don't tell him that he has dead, that would sign Edward's death sentence and he would be dead by morning..._

"His fever broke this morning," the Doctor answered, his eyes not meeting our own as he began pulling out some medicine from his pocket and setting some pills on our nightstand. "I was on Cherry Lane and he was out on the porch with his mother, fit as a fiddle."

"See Edward dear," I smiled, my hand gently brushing his clammy face, "Quincy was sick one day before you where, so you have nearly beaten this influenza! We'll be out of this hospital before you can say Carolina!" I grinned, genuinely happy. If the doctor was telling the truth, then we where surly going to make it. Maybe Edward wasn't going to die, maybe I had just been at my lowest point and had become a pessimist. No—Edward was going to be all right.

"Do you think this is my last night here Doctor?" Edward asked, a faint grin touching the corners of his mouth. The doctor thought a minute, then gave a slight sad smile, " Yes, I think you'll be out of here by tomorrow evening, but to insure that you need to take your medicine."

He actually looked happy as he took the nasty tonic, not evening pulling a face as he finished. "Mother you need to get to bed too," he smiled, grinning widely "I refuse to leave the hospital with you ill, and I refuse to stay here one more night . . . no offense to you Dr. Cullen, you'll have to come over to Cherry Lane once everything is over for a dinner. We couldn't have made it through this with out you." I watched my son from my own bed—he was pale. He had been coughing blood for the past two days, but he was smiling. He was smiling that smile that made me want to hope that everything Dr. Cullen was saying was true. Yet the Doctor's facial expressions seemed to run a muck—like he was hiding something that he didn't want to tell either of us.

"Do you have any magic tonic for me Dr. Cullen?" I smiled from my fresh sheets. He looked at me with the troubled eyes that I had been dreading. "I'll bring it too you as soon as your son has fallen asleep, there are some maters that I need to talk to you about that are best discussed with your son in a peaceful, sleeping state."

It seemed as though the air had escaped my lungs, as though my heart for that moment had been stopped. The news that I had been dreading, that I was trying to prolong and not hear was going to come rushing to my ears all too soon.

So, I sat and waited, with the ticking hands of clock. If I had my typewriter with me I knew exactly what I would write.

"_Oh time, thou art a cruel jailer."_

"Mrs. Masen," Dr. Cullen spoke sitting in a chair next to my bed, the side opposite from Edward, " I need to tell you about Mr. Whitiker and Miss. Keeley..."

I remembered vividly Sherrie how I had left her, laying in a bed with the heat of the day filling the room—her words depicting her looming death still echoing my ears... It felt like she was there in the hospital with me right now as I thought of her... I believed her now, I believed she did die the same evening as Eddie—she had been reunited with her parents and siblings—and then Dr. Cullen began to tell his story.

"I went to your home this morning after I got off duty—you had told me about Sherrie, I wanted to make sure she was taken care of and see if there where any medications I could give her, just—just incase she was still alive..."

"She wasn't though, was she?" I knew he must have thought I was crazy, because I said this with a smile, "She wasn't alive was she Dr. Cullen," I watched the doctor nod solemnly. "She said she wouldn't be—she said that she wasn't going to make it through the illness. I didn't want to believe her, she was my daughter in so many ways, I don't think I could bare to think I was going to loose her." _Godspeed Sherrie Keeley, _I thought to myself, _may you rest in peace in the Ireland you love. _

"Mr. Whitiker," I spoke in a whisper, "What news do you have of Quincy? I know it can't be the story you told Edward an hour ago or we wouldn't be discussing it now. Has he, has Quincy—"

"Quincy Tobias Whitker died this morning at his home 256 Cherry Lane; there was nothing I could do for him. He had been dead long before I arrived in their home." He informed me, still trying to sound optimistic, but it was lost in tone of grieve. I knew what he was trying to tell me.

There is an unwritten law established since the dawning of medicine and medical treatment. No matter how badly the patient is, no matter how low his chances for survival is, never tell them that they will not make it. Never rob from them or their loved ones that sense of hope; that everything may turn out the way desired and all well again. It is a law that all doctors practice by, they live by it, some even die by it. If their own son was lying near death on the operating table, they would send a nurse into tell their wife that everything was going alright and he would be out with an hour or so, just in time for dinner.

It was this law that Dr. Cullen was trying to break—only with my discovering it for myself rather then telling me. My angelic Doctor—his heart was set in compassion, it had been since our arrival—what would I have done without him?

"My poor Edward," I whispered to myself, "Are you trying to tell me, that Edward..."

He gave a great sigh that seemed to rack his entire being. "Mrs. Masen, I have tried everything for your son. I don't want him to loose this battle. The medicine I gave him tonight was the same I have given him every three hours since his arrival, only I coated it with hope, that maybe he could get out. If he has hope, if he tries, then maybe he can pull through."

"Elizabeth," it was the first time that Dr. Cullen had called me by my first name, "you are running out of time yourself. I must ask you to have hope for you're own recovery, and not just your son's. If you have that, then there is a great possibility that you can pull through this..."

"But if I don't..."

I looked at my hands. They where shaking, they where skinny, fragile and very pale. I had been in this hospital for three days, I knew I probably looked ghastly myself, but I had yet to realize that I was at risk, all my thoughts turned to my son who was laying in a false sense of time next to me. "Please, try Mrs. Elizabeth—Your husband would want you to live on for Edward and Edward would want you to live on for life. He would want you too—"

"Don't tell me what my son would want. What my son _does_ want!" I was beginning to be irritable, maybe my family was a pack of bears, whatever the case, I was beginning to be rude; "Edward and I _will _survive this. _Both _of us!" I looked at the doctors face, it was pale in the moonlight, "Please, then try and stay strong for your own well being— as well as Edward's."

He got up, filled the water glasses as he left. I tried to sleep, but my mind was still buzzing, my coughing still going on erratically. It racked through my body like a child shaking the cage of a bird, and I was the bird locked in as it was shaken. I grabbed the handkerchief that was on my bed side, covering my mouth as I could feel the blood coming out.

I thought of my words with bitterness, in my mind beginning to think "_Edward and I will not survive this; Neither of us."_

* * *

**Note from the Author (I was tierd of doing just AN, seemed bland anywho...)**

**Alrighty. Elizabeth gets a bit irked with the doctor, I didn't like that, but I imagine she would be going on about this as a fighter... Hope you enjoyed the story and thanks for reading! **


	9. 30 September 1918

An: Alright, this is the chapter we've all been waiting for---well almost. Happy reading!

* * *

My eyes opened slowly, as though I was fighting the cruel sandbags of a curtain, no matter how hard I tried, the curtains rose only ruggedly until they at last where wide.

This had to be the worse day yet, I decided.

I felt nothing but heat, I could hear nothing but the sound of blood pounding against my ears, steady as a beating drum. Oh if this wasn't the realm of Hades, I didn't know what was, I didn't want to know. My cough continued to rack throughout my body,

The room was crammed full of frantic nurses bringing medicine to new arrivals—arrivals who still had hope of a recovery. I turned my head slowly to my left where I could see a Priest giving the last rites to an elderly couple, what looked to be a Rabbi doing a similar practice down the room a bit to another ailing mother. _I wonder if any one gave those to Edward and I while we slept, _I thought, watching both religious men go down to the next bed of a dying soul and administering their appointed rites.

When Edward was nine years old my mother had gotten sick of shingles. The illness had taken a great toll on her, I had gone with my sister to see her. Although that was eight years ago—her voice rang still in my ears, _And now as I walk even in the shadow of death—_my mind returned to the prayer. So this was the shadow of death? It wasn't as dark as I though it would be, then of course, I remembered that the sun was setting. Day was done, another day had died; The sun was setting once again, taking from the earth it's light.

This is not how I wanted it to end for either my son or myself. If we where to die, I would have preferred to it to be a quick death—falling asleep, a sudden car crash, being hit by the trolley, —anything but just waiting.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

That's what the past week of my life had been. Waiting to tell Edward that he had been drafted into the army, Waiting in the Model T to arrive at the hospital. Waiting to see my Husband. Waiting for a medical explanation on why I dreamt my son was sparkling. Waiting for Edward to have a chance at life. Waiting for Edward to die. Waiting for a miracle that was not going to come.

I was sick of waiting.

I thought of Dr. Cullen's words the day before concerning hope, how it should be our medicine. I had no hope left in me. The fever had burned it up, it had consumed my will to live. Death could not be as horrific as this was. I wanted it to come without delay, so I could be freed from this medical curse.

I tried to sleep—trying to find the rest and reassurance that Sherrie had as she met her final day. In my dreams, I was walking in the same white dress that I had been wearing in the dream of the meadow, only restored and unstained; I was walking to a garden gate, hidden by ivy that was covering the door except for a the handle.

Opening the gate, I was met by a glorious garden, Cherry trees in full blossom met with wild flowers and rose bushes, daises and tulips. The sun shone brightly through the clouds, rays leaking from the floor of heaven. Right in front of me, my eyes where met with Eddie—sitting on the bench we had in our rose gardens, waiting for me with a single daisy in his hand. There is no combination of words known to man that could describe my how my heart felt as I saw him. He wasn't pale, he wore the a crisp white shirt, his hair combed back nicely, a laugh holding up his ever familiar glasses as he beckoned for me.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I turned to my left where I could hear the laughter of my Anna Sophia and little William, both dressed in spotless white their faces pink with laughter as they where being chased by a playful Sherrie. They saw me and their little faces, if possible lit up more, as I watched my daughter and son run up to take my hands. .

I would have given anything for at that moment to actually be permitted to stay in this heaven—this oasis of joy, of realization, of being free of the pain that had racked my body for days. That is until I realized my heaven had one great flaw, my son was not present.

Darn the tonic—Edward was right, it was complicating my dreams. Where I should be dreaming about my perfect afterlife, I couldn't. Edward was not in it. _Maybe the dream only shows those who have died, _I thought, _Edward is still alive, he is alive and with me, maybe that is why he's not there. _Whatever the case, I waited. Waiting for a miracle to happen that would let me live or waiting for the unstoppable death that was waiting for me.

Was there anything more I could do for my Edward? I turned to look at him; whenever he woke up, it was only for a brief moment, to make sure I was still alive and by his side, then he returned to his slumber. He didn't want to out live me, I knew that, he smiled overtime he saw I was still there, yet there was still a twinkle in his eye that held on for a miracle, a get out of jail free card, a way for survival. Was there anything I could do for him as the time of my probation ran to it's end?

I could hear the familiar sound of a specific person walking down the hallway. Walking through the door was Dr. Cullen. He was on duty already? Impossible, it couldn't be six thirty already—had I really slept all through the day? I watched with aching eyes as he walked quickly to our beds as he usually did. Our states had breached his calm face, alarm spreading on it like the sun rising at morn. He quickly glanced at the notes made on our charts by doctors during the day with horrified eyes, then he looked at me. I had to try to ask for a miracle, and who better from a man that looked to be an angel.

I knew there was something different about Dr. Carlise Cullen. He was always awake, always alert. Unlike several doctors on staff, he had never fallen ill. He was prompt, he could care for his patients like no other. I had watch his gentle methods of medicine on myself and my son, I knew that if anyone could save my son, it was going to be this man. He was the only one; he was the last hope that I had. If Edward was going to survive, it would be because of something that this doctor alone could do.

"Mrs. Masen," he put one of his hands on my head. I couldn't recognize his touch. It was usually so cold, and now it just felt as though there was a dead weight on my head where his hand was. "Mrs. Masen, you're burning up," he began to pour some water from a basin in vain hopes of cooling myself down, lowering my body temperature to a cooler state.

I gripped his hand, tightly and quickly, making him drop the basin as it shattered into many pieces on the floor. The blood still pumping in my ears, I couldn't hear the shattering of the basin, only seeing the pieces as they fell. I held his hand-with-no-temperature as though I was trying to break it. Of course I wasn't I just thought, if I hold tight enough, he could quiet possibly understand my last demand. I turned my eyes to where they where staring into his own topaz ones, I could see them reflecting from his pupils.

"Save him," I whispered lamely.

"What Mrs. Masen?" he asked bending down to better hear me.

"You must save him," I said with such strength and conviction I thought of Sherrie the last time we had talked together. I must be strong like Sherrie—show no fear, just ask one last request: "Promise me Dr. Cullen, that you will do _everything _in your power to save my son, to save Edward. I know you are no ordinary man, you _must_ do everything that you possibly can for him to survive. Something no one else in this hospital can do" My heart was racing—my head was going light. "Promise me," I still hadn't broken eye contact with the doctor who looked as he did when I asked about a sparkling side effect. He looked alarmed, as though I had breached on some great secret.

"I promise Mrs. Masen," he said with matching conviction. I trusted this man. He had been our companion, our angel throughout this trying experience. "Thank you," I said, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, Edward was going to be all right, I smiled to myself. All was going to be well.

I watched him walk away almost as though he was contemplating something heavy on his mind—as though he was trying to find away to honor the promise he had just made. I turned over to my son who laid motionless on the bed beside me.

"I want you to be careful Edward—" I said in a cracking voice. I knew he was asleep, and couldn't hear me at all, but I had to say my last words to him, in desperate hope that maybe he could and would hear.

"I've asked Dr. Cullen to take care of you—I know you don't want me to leave, but I can't fight this anymore," Was I failing my son by giving up into this illness? I shook my head, continuing my words. "Please remember to listen to him, and to do as your told. I know you Edward, your a fighter, you love your independence, but please, —Obey what Dr. Cullen says, he knows a way, I know he knows a way, that can save you. Just let him; you have so much to live for—you haven't met that special girl yet..." I chuckled, which wasn't the smartest thing to do as I began coughing horribly again.

"I love you Edward Anthony," I smiled weakly from my bedside, looking at my son one last time before I turned to face my bed board, closing my eyes one last time—for a while anyway, I thought.

I could hear a nurse come by and sweep up the broken shards of a basin, but she didn't disturb me much, she just laid a damp cloth over my forehead, sending very little chills through my upper head.

I slipped into a dream, the fire still burning in my blood, burning throughout my mind, only becoming dimmer and dimmer—was it possible my fever was broken? How stupid I would feel, after a day of thinking of nothing but my looming death, I would be spared in the evening by the breaking of my fever.

The fever was becoming dim. I was relaxed, was it possible, was it possible that I had been freed? In a few more moments, I though merrily, Dr. Cullen's miracle will have pulled through and I will be healthy. Edward and I will go home—I was free. Dr. Cullen was an angel. There could be no further explanation, this was the only thing that made any inch of sense. I waited with a smile in my heart—within two days for sure, Edward and I would be back at 254 Cherry Lane eating a large bowl of fresh cut strawberries and reading the paper. Yes, my husband would be gone, grieve of loosing Sherrie, Quincy and Eddie would always linger in our hearts, but my son and I would have survived. We would be survivors.

The fever was gone.

I couldn't feel it anymore.

_I was free._

I opened my eyes. The room was completely clear, it was completely still. I got out of bed, suprised that my feet could still support my body after three days abed. Light filled the room, beautiful and warming. I looked to my right where still slept Edward. Maybe Dr. Cullen was saving him now and soon he would be there with me. I sat waiting, just waiting happily for him to wake up and be well.

"Lizzie," a voice called from behind. The voice was smooth like the velvet gloves that laid atop my dresser at home, it wrapped around my heart as the name floated through my ears. I knew that voice anywhere, it had been my constant companion for nearly thirty years.

I looked to see Eddie walking through the hallway, as strong and as healthy as he had ever been. He was dressed as I had seen him in my dream that morning—he was the Edward Andrew Masen I had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"Eddie," my heart was racing within my chest. I ran into his waiting arms, "Oh darling," I smiled, feeling safe in his loving, protective arms.

I suddenly pulled back looking into his eyes, which had seemed to register the shock. I realized what this meant.

If Eddie was holding me, that meant many things, "Eddie—" I spoke aloud, as I began putting the puzzle together.

First, Dr. Cullen had not provided _me_ with a miracle.

Secondly, I did not want Edward to suddenly accompany us because, my fever had broken, but only in correspondence to third . . .

"Eddie, why are you here, you died three days ago," maybe if I played delirious, if I pretended the truth wasn't the truth...

A trickle of pain and confusion danced across his face. "Lizzie, dearest, I don't know how to break it to you—darling, you died. Just five minutes ago, see—" he pointed to my bed where there laid a woman with bronze tinted hair, her face not yet peaceful even in death.

I was staring at myself, my body.

The third truth was recognized. I was dead.

"And Edward?" I asked looking at our son who still slept in the bed, neither peaceful or relaxed, "How long does he have?"

I kept my eyes locked on my son as I felt Eddie wrap his arm protectively around my waist, pulling me into his loving arms, he whispered quietly into my ear, "He'll be with us within the hour."

* * *

BuhbuhBUH... lol oh well, We are slowly rapping up here...oh well, I won't spoil anything! Thanks for the reviews and comments guys!Kait 


	10. 30 September to October 3 1918

_September 30th-October 2nd 1918_

"What do you mean, within the hour?" I didn't think it was possible to get angry in heaven, or wherever I was, this wasn't right, "Dr. Cullen is going to perform a miracle and Edward will be all right—I know it. He couldn't get one for me quick enough—I didn't ask for one, I only asked for Edward—"

"Lizzie," Eddie spoke gently as soft as he always did, tenderly taking my hand. "Edward has fought his hardest, he can't anymore. He wants this to end; He is going to—"

Eddie was silent as Dr. Cullen entered the room. "Sit down dearest," he sighed as we sat on the foot of my bed. I watched attentively. Obviously, He couldn't see us sitting on my bed, looking at our son; we were invisible. It felt as though I was watching a show at the theater, everything was going on around us as though we weren't being observed it at all.

I watched as he approached my deathbed. A twinkle seemed to vanish from his eye, he knew that I was dead. He knelt down and for the longest time, it seemed as though he was staring regretfully at my face, like he wished he had been able to do more then he did. Gently, he moved my hands gently to my side, and looking at my face one last time with tender gaze, moved a stray hair to the side. Gently, he lifted the white sheet to where it would cover my face;

Immediately, my noble doctor looked over at Edward instantly, checking his pulse, making sure that he was still alive. "Come on Edward, don't you die on me yet," he whispered quickly and angrily. As he gripped Edward's wrist for a pulse, faint but steady.

"See Eddie?" I pointed out, "Dr. Cullen is going to save him now I know it, he's going to—"

"Jefferson, Marx" Dr. Cullen called out to two men who suddenly approached from the hallway. "I need you to get me a gurney—we lost them."

I was livid, jumping from the bed I walked quickly to face Dr. Cullen "You haven't lost him yet Carlisle!" Oh how I was fuming, I was really starting to believe I was too angry to be allowed into heaven. "My son is still alive, how is he—he's going to take him there and—he's not even dead yet!" I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to call his attention; Nothing happened. My touch didn't effect him. I really was dead.

"This is so—frustrating!" I continued to rant until sitting next to Eddie's side. It was frustrating. "I didn't know it was humanely possible to go through this much frustration, and in death none the less! The preachers paint a picture of relaxation and peace," I waved my hand between my son and I, "This is no the sort of eternal 'peace' I was planning on. Where's Father Michael? He tnought Mass all my childhood—I'd like to file a complaint."

Eddie smiled. I looked at my husband disgusted. Why the devil was he smiling? "What may I ask is so happy, so jovial about this situation that it would leave you smiling Edward Andrew Masen! They're giving up on our son, they're robbing him of his chances of survival and here you're sitting like a child at the circus _smiling_! Has death taken all good sense from your mind?"

He was still smiling as he shook his head. "No, it's not funny—It's just the afterlife has been so bland with out your livid remarks—I'm glad to have my friend back." He took my hand. "Elizabeth, we need to go now."

"Go," I was puzzled. "Go where? I will not be going anywhere until I see that my son is either alive or dead." I was proud—I could be stubborn even in death. Suddenly I saw a metal gurney enter the door. Dr. Cullen removed the sheet covering my face.

I watched the doctor bend down, nearly whispering in my dead ear, " I'll save him Elizabeth—"he whispered quietly, "just like I promised, please rest in peace." His eyes where kind and his voice promising from what I could tell. He suddenly turned his attention to the two other doctors.

"Careful Marx, just because they're dead doesn't mean they should be tossed like potatoes," Dr. Cullen sighed as the man named Marx lifted my body at the feet. "Set her down gently, She lived like a lady she should rest as a lady." Dr. Cullen instructed as he lifted my shoulders; upon my body's arrival on the gurney, he placed a white sheet over my body again, silently, I watched Dr. Cullen begin to push along. "Oi, Doctor!" Jefferson called out, "What about the son, do you want another gurney for him?"

Dr. Cullen looked as though he was thinking many things at once. "Yes. But I'll just use this one, I want to wheel them off myself."

"Where are they taking me?" I asked Eddie who was still at my side.

"The morgue dearest," he sighed. "It's really not that bad, Dr. Cullen is taking care of you, he will make sure your body is in a good location in there. Trust me, I know."

"But—he said he was going to take Edward there—he said that right after promising me again that he'd—" I was so confused, what was the doctor doing? What was he going to do. I watched as Dr. Cullen wheeled me away, turning from that to my son laying in the bed, making small movements, small and steady movements.

"Lizzie, as soon as we know what the Doctor is going to do to Edward, we have to leave—" Eddie started, still holding my hand gently as ever.

"Why? Where are we going to?" I asked puzzled; so many things where floating through my mind at that moment. Edward's dying but Dr. Cullen is going to make him live. I'm dead and have been carted off. My husband, who is also dead, is telling me that we have to leave.

"Well Lizzie, I know you don't think Heaven is a hospital, we have places to go, clouds to float on, harps to play, and according to you, old Priests to complain to…" he was listing these things making me laugh.

"I haven't even been dead for an hour and I am still as busy as a bee in a beehive aren't I?" I sighed; "Have you been there yet?" I motioned my head upwards to the ceiling, Eddie smiled, "Nah, not yet. I had to stick around for my girl," he grinned a lopsided smile as he held my hand.

"Anyway, when I checked in the line was ridiculously long, St. Peter or Paul, who ever guards the gate, advised that I take a walk and try again in a few days," he joked.

Dr. Cullen had returned to the room. Still pushing his steel gurney he made way to Edward's bed. Placing a small, thin cot on the cold gurney first, he then lifted up with great strength the still sleeping Edward. Thank Heavens he wasn't awaked; that would probably through him off more. In a familiar practice to what he had done for me, he placed a sheet over Edward's body, giving the illusion that it was yet another cadaver off to its resting place.

I sprang to my feet as the gurney began to move. "Eddie, can we follow him can we see what's going to happen—" I was still tied to my husband.

"Sweetheart—we can't go any farther. Our journey with Edward ends here," he rose to his feet. "Our place is not among the living anymore, we've been promoted, you could say—come on dearest; Heaven's waiting."

My heart broke as we stood in the hallway watching Dr. Cullen carry our son away. Eddie was right. I couldn't do anymore for him. I think that it was the hardest thing I've ever had to come to turns with, realizing that I could do no more for my son, that I had loved and watched over for his entire life. He was so helpless and I could do nothing. His life lay in the hands of the doctor that had failed to provide me with a miracle. If Dr. Cullen was unable to pull of a miracle for my son, then Edward would be with us soon enough. If Dr. Cullen was successful though—someday we would be reunited.

I watched them travel their way until they turned the corner. Then it was my cue. I couldn't go on anymore. Not because I didn't want to, it was because I couldn't. "Good Luck Edward," I whispered with small tears trickling my eyes as my husband took my hand and lead me elsewhere, to my new residence, without my son.

"I love you,"

* * *

_**Carlisle's POV**_

The room was just as it was when I had left it moments ago. I could hear Edward's haggard breaths and I knew that his time was drawing to an end; the curtain of his life was beginning to close. I had to do something within the next twenty minutes or so or I would have lost my window and Edward would return to his mother, who would have died with a vain promise unkept by myself.

I lifted Edward into my arms. He was extremely light. It maybe the fact that I was extremely stronger then the average man, but he had also lost a fair amount of weight in the hospital during the influenza. "Alright Edward, we're going to go for a little run alright?" I whispered to myself, as I kicked open the door that led to the outside alley outside the hospital. The morgue was on the fourth floor; I ran down the fire escapes, hoping that he'd make it to the apartment. I just had to cross the street and go through a back alley and I would be home free.

No one suspects anything because there was no one outside. The hospital had become the epicenter of the city; you constantly had people coming in and out, waiting for news on ill loved ones. Yet tonight it was different. It was as though some sense of grace had been provided. The streets where clear. Chicago was a ghost town. Nothing could change that. At least not right now. I took a deep breath as I reached the alleyway, running at full vampire speed across the street to where the Doctor housing was. Edward hadn't made any movement. Either he was dead or just a sound sleeper; I was relieved to find that it was the later.

We entered the apartment building that was deserted. All medical staff was on duty tonight as they should be, the hospital was in complete disarray, I should be there but I am a man of my word. We reached my apartment and I carried Edward into my never-used bedroom.

I set him down on the bed, his eyes flickering open for a minute, trying to take in his surroundings, but they closed quickly, a sign that his time was drawing near. It was now or never I quiet feared.

_How do you do this Carlisle? _I thought. Of course I knew, I had to bite him. But how? Was there a specific location I needed to bite? Was it one or multiple? I could remember my own changing experience in London all those centuries ago. It was painful, but what do I do? I took in a deep breath—and bent down to Edward's hand.

"I promised you Elizabeth—" I whispered to the night air that seemed to be tainted with her somehow, "This may hurt a bit Edward—I'm sorry."

I sank my teeth into his hand, his neck and right elbow, the exact locations where I had been bitten all those hundreds of years past, his blood tasted extraordinarily sweet, yet it was weak. In comparison to human food it was like a chocolate cake that was in the process of becoming stale. Yes, it tasted delicious still, but I was strong enough to pull back. I drew away looking at him. I knew that if my heart could beat it would be running a race, a marathon as I waited with anticipation for the transformation to begin.

Instantly, Edward's eyes flew open, flickering everywhere. He didn't know where he was and his first words out will echo in my mind I knew forever, "FIRE!" He had awaken with a new sense of strength I instantly thought he could have survived without my interference, I would later realize that was wrong. He needed this to life; he needed this to honor his mother's wishes. He twisted his head to and fro looking for his mother, looking for that calming touch that would bring him the only comfort. "MOTHER, MOTHER WHERE ARE YOU, STOP THE FIRE!"

It was painful to listen as he screamed. This would be the first of a three-day experience. I looked at the calendar. _30__th__ September 1918._ October 3rd. He had to wait till October 3rd to be free of this.

"Dr. Cullen," his green eyes where fluttering as he looked at me they appeared as though they where burning, His voice was cracking. It didn't sound like a young man, more like a little boy crying out for help. "I need medicine—Mother, I need my mother." I didn't know what to do. I didn't have the faintest Idea what to say, "You'll be alright Edward, you're going to be alright—" I tried comforting him as he grasped my hand.

"No, I need mother, I need her to stop the fire— Please Dr. Cullen, Let me see my mother" His eyes burned with the intensity that I knew he would have given anything he had at that moment in time for his mother to be there holding his hand. His final tears of mortalitly seemed to fall from the corners of his burning eyes. His cries filled the night as I sat by his bed, trying to over the comfort that we both knew, only his mother could give.

* * *

AN: I have an exam in an hour and wanted to update for good luck. There are still a few more chapters well one for sure left in this story! Hope that y'all have a great weekend! Gotta go, exams are hereKait


	11. 5 October 1918

5th October 1918

It had been a week since I had met Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Yet in that week so much had changed, it seemed as though it was a lifetime ago.

And then I realized, it was.

"How long can we stay Dr. Cul—Uncle Carlisle?" I asked, remembering the story that we where living as we rode in the back of a taxi through the streets of Chicago. "However long you need Edward, this is your trip remember," my companion instructed as we rode through the streets. "The memorial service starts at five, so we have a few hours before we have to head to the church.

The Memorial Service; my time to say good-bye to people I barely remembered. There was really only one was I was going for; and for that person I was returning to my home. Possibly for the last time. And I couldn't remember practically anything about it.

"Alright," I answered in a bored voice as I stared out the window through my dark shaded glasses. Carlisle was making me where them while we where out in public. My red eyes could cause quiet a scene he thought, wearing these 'sunglasses' would cover them nicely and if some did have the courage to ask why I was wearing them, or why my eyes burned with crimson blood, Carlisle would simply answer "He became blind after the influenza, let him be." And I was completely ignored and the subject quickly changed. Also we were being permitted to go out due to the rain and clouded skies that held over us. The rain fell lightly, ending every now and again, while the clouds held firm blocking any rays of sunlight. Sparkling would not be a believable side effect from surviving the influenza. I hadn't been out in the sun for at least a week, I didn't know what would happen when I ever was—Carlisle said it would defiantly cause a scene.

It was still going on. The influenza that had killed my mother and father, the illness that had led to my becoming a _vampire_ was still raging within Chicago. It had been two days. Two days of sleepless nights, of lying in a dark room trying to remember what had happened—now we where going home. Back to my home.

I couldn't remember much about my human years. Carlisle said that was normal, transformation was our major memory of such a time. But Carlisle was telling me what I had been like, what my mother was like, and I could remember faintly. That's why I was going back to my home on 254 Cherry Lane; I had to get my mother's belongings before we carried on somewhere else, which would have to be something I must grow accustomed to. I would forever be trapped in time as a Seventeen-year-old boy as Carlisle was halted in time in his twenties. I could remember mother faintly, but out of my memories, her faint image was the strongest.

"Here you are gents, 254 Cherry Lane," the cab driver said as Carlisle handed him some bills. I stepped out of the car and looked up at the house. _So this was home,_ I thought, looking at the somewhat familiar building. The window boxes where still full of flowers, the house showed no signs of what the inhabitants inside had borne for weeks. It seemed to be untouched by the hands of time; a safe haven possible, perfection after my days of torture.

"Edward, Edward Masen is that you," I heard a voice calling for me from the steps of the house next door.

There stood a woman I'd imagine was a little over fifty. She looked at me and her breath was taken aback, She ran down the steps rushing into my arms, _don't hug her tight Edward, just lightly, extremely lightly, no need to crush her._ I could hear Carlisle thinking. That was another odd thing about this—try as I may, I could hear people's thoughts. It was extremely odd and boring at times, everything though was so new to me. I nodded and gently, I hugged the old woman.

_How is it that you have survived when my Quincy and Sammy did not?_ She thought sadly to herself with anger in the end. "I'm sorry about your sons Mrs. Whitiker," I answered, remembering the woman. She had been mother's friend, she had been _my _friend's mother, I thought. Carlisle told me about Quincy on the way over, apparently he lied about his 'recovery' the day before I became a vampire in hopes I too would find strength to recover. I knew I should be feeling sad, horribly torn up by his passing; it left little effect on me. I couldn't even remember what he looked like. I knew he thought life was a game of cards, sang a horrible bass, but all the same, he was nothing now in my memories."My sympathies rest with you also Edward, your dear father and mother—I don't know what I will do with out Elizabeth and Susan—"

"Sherrie," I corrected. _Still very ignorant isn't he? _She thought, looking up at me with false kind eyes.

"Yes, her too," She waved on. "Good Heavens boy, take off those shades, it's raining, no sun today. _Who dose he think he is? Wearing shades in the rain after families have been torn apart. He was always ignorant, just like his mother could be, God Bless Her Soul--_

Cue Dr. Cull—Carlisle. Instantly he walked to my side, seeing my arms tighten. "I'm sorry, he will not be able to do that Madame. He lost his sight in the influenza. His eyes are too delicate to be exposed to any form of light"

"And may I ask who you are?" _Here I think I'll be able to get Elizabeth's table cloths and china and the dead rises against me, _I tightened my fists as she thought. Mother sure had her taste in friends, I thought bitterly, trying to block the woman out of my thoughts. _Don't loose your temper Edward—hold it in. I'll talk to her and you go inside, close her mind by closing yours._ I gave another nod and signed quietly as Carlisle came to the rescue.

"I am Edward's Uncle, Carlisle Cullen. I married Mr. Masen's sister Caroline a few years ago and I'm Edward's closest kin," Carlisle answered quickly and with exactness, no doubt in his voice as he extended a hand for a gentle handshake.

"How long will you be staying," Mrs. Whitiker asked with what seemed good intentions, _Not long enough to want to stay—that house would be perfect for my son Derek and his Melinda—_

"I plan on keeping the house. It is in my parent's will that I am to inherit everything from the house to the kitchen spoons, I intended to keep my inheritance," I snapped quickly. I watched as suprise flashed Mrs. Whitker's face, _how did he know I was thinking that—_I continued on furiously. "Although my uncle and I will be gone for periods of time, this house will forever be owned by a Masen," my words rang with assurity and confidence. "If you will excuse me, I need to go inside, my eyes hurt," then fuddling with my best dignity, I stumbled into my home having just done the best interpretation of a boy who had just lost his sight.

I could still hear Carlisle, "We're going to stay till New Years for sure, but I want to take him to my country home in Wisconsin, it will do him plenty good to have clean fresh air to breath..."

Oh we had fabricated a fair story. Carlisle was my Uncle who would be taking me in with him as he traveled to a small town in Wisconsin or Michigan. But I was going to keep the house, and my mother's belongings, he was confidant I would want both of them. In addition, I could use the Chicago house if I ever needed some time by myself, or I needed to unwind a bit, Carlisle believed I should always be permitted to own _home_. The place that at one time had been my refuge and sanctuary. I stepped into the house taking off my glasses. I found a light switch, and suddenly the room was cascading with light. The room smelled like it had been unoccupied for days. The wooden floor was getting dusty.

I walked down the hallway that would lead to the kitchen to be stopped by a note that lay next to a vase of now wilted daisies.

_Lizzie—_

_Edward and I should be home by six to get ready for the Opera. I'll see you at the end of the day but until then have these daisies to help you think of your boys_

_Love always—_

_Eddie and Edward_

I set down the note, Eddie—father had written that note to Mother, the day that he died. His elegant script seemed to hold the loops and twirls of other happy days that no longer existed. Days when life and light had filled the home; it was now empty and the daisies reflected how life had been for us; it had fallen apart to a state of disarray.

The phone dangled from its hook, looming over the floor of the kitchen from where mother must have dropped it before rushing to the hospital. It seemed odd, being in my home once again. Paintings hung on the wall that I had passed I was sure thousands of time, only now it was alien to my eyes. Watercolors of balconies in Tuscany, pansies that I had seen in the window box. I left the kitchen and began to return to the front of the house. Walking up the stairs, life seemed to stand still. The hallway was dark; I touched an oil lamp, twisting a knob that filled the room with light.

A French door was open. It seemed most familiar too me. Entering, I found a room that I could remember it had her touch. Her style, It was mother.

On the day bed rested her copy of _Sense and Sensibility, _forever stopped at chapter 48. Lying across the arm of her daybed was a blue satin night coat that although long since abandoned still carried her smell—Lilacs and Freesia. I sat down on the corner, stroking it gently. My eyes cast to her table that lay next to it, were sat a photograph, A man who I could fainly remember called Father, his hand claspped in Mothers. Mother. She smiled beautifully, I could feel her. She was smiling as I stood to her side in the picture. I was making her happy. Father and I were making her happy. I waited for the moister to fill my eyes, but they remained dry. I saw the Piano, dust accumulating over the ivory keys; instantly thoughts of _Claire de Lune_ filled my mind. It was her favorite, she loved it. I turned around yet again and saw that the window had opened slightly, a gust of wind sending papers flying from a desk set up in the corner.

The typewriter sat at top the desk; it's red paint shining.

It had been her little pest; I walked behind it, lightly letting my fingers dance along its keys. Mother had hated it—That was probably my most vivid memory of her. Was that horrible? To only remember someone that you loved so dearly only by something they hated?

I had come home from school one day—I remembered, and walked into her study, this room to her fiddling with it her first time. I remember reading what she had typed, she was worried for me, for something she feared was going to come and take me away from her. Could she have predicted this influenza? She had smiled while I played the piano for her, I had smiled because she was. That time, only a short time ago seemed to have taken place eons ago. Memories where going to fade... Carlisle told me to expect that. But I didn't want them to, I wanted them to live on as long as I was going to, which to my understanding, was going to be a very long time.

A page was left inside not yet freed from the iron grip of its captor. I stared down at the page, pressing the ejection button lightly.

* * *

_...Oh to know that my Edward will find a girl that will make him laugh like his father makes me will be the highlight of my life. But I always seem to find myself thinking will someone ever be worthy enough of my son? Oh poppycot that's the thought of every mother isn't it? As if there can ever be a woman worthy of my Edward..._

The gardens have to be my favorite part of the house next to Edward's Piano room. The roses are giving their last bloom and Mr. Masen and I sat up there looking at the stars and while doing so just simply taking time to be together and literally smell the roses. Oh Eddie... sorry typewriter, that's just my husband for you. He is a romantic. He tucked a daisy behind my ear (he knows its one of my favorite flowers) and then started to sing softly into the night. He'd never admit it but he has a very lovely music voice. Oh how I love my husband. I don't know what I would do without him. He's been this form of a romantic as long as I have met him. Some women are lucky when they marry, they marry a kind gentlemen which I did, only I have a kind, and loving one. My dearest Eddie. He seemed rather clammy though while we where on the roof, I begged him to go down but he is stubborn, a trait that I see our son has developed all too well. Nevertheless, all is well with that.

So this morning at 7, Mr. Masen and Edward headed off to the office. It is quarter after five now, and they should be home within a few hours. Before he left though, Mr. Masen left a fresh vase of daisies downstairs for me with a note for when he and Edward will be home. I'm so lucky to have married such a man aren't i? The Opera is at 7 this evening and I am both looking forward to it while dreading it. Looking forward because the opera is _Carmen _one of my favorites while dreading telling Edward about his papers. I spent all yesterday afternoon talking to Edna and she doesn't have the foggiest idea of Quincy's enlistment, it took all I had not to tell her. The house is all but silent, except for the sounds of ragtime playing on the gramophone.

Oh, Sherrie is coughing again. I hope she'll be all right tonight, I'm having Emily, Edna's usual companion come over to watch her tonight. I'll go check on her and make sure she is all right. Good bye for now my little typewriter... don't tell Mr. Masen, but you're not as big of a menace as I first believed. Maybe this newfound technology will help me in life—don't tell him I said that, remember.

* * *

I looked at the paper one last time, A draft? Is that one mother had foreseen, what she wasn't telling me? We where going to an Opera? Maybe I liked Opera as a human but the thought of it now sent chills through my granite body...Sherrie—she brought the illness to the home, or was it Quincy who had died a few days past?

I reviewed the paper once again. This was the only clue I had to what my life had been like with my parents. Soap spud fights in the kitchen during dishes, watching them do embarrassing dance moves—but they where happy, it seems like we where happy. And it had been snatched away. I'd never have that happiness again.

"Edward," I heard a familiar voice call from the stairs below. In a blink of an eye I had folded the paper into fourths, tucking it into the pocket of my navy blue dress coat. "Yes Uncle," I replied, unaware if Edna had invited herself inside with Carlisle before she made her move for my mother's china and linens.

"I'm sorry to rush you but we need to head down to Saint Thomas' Cathedral, the Memorial service is going to start in an hour..." his voice trailed.

That was another thing I wasn't fond of today.

It was my first day out of Carlisle's apartment and it had been spent walking in my past life. Now he that he had allowed me to return briefly to the home I had always—until recently anyway—known, he was forcing me to attended a Memorial Service for all those that had perished in the disease that had scourged and continued to scourge the city of Chicago.

"Carlisle," I whispered with frustration in the word, " I don't want to go."

Carlisle walked up the stairs, I could hear them slightly creaking as he did so. He walked in the room, and for a minute it seemed as though he was remembering my mother as well. He had told me about her during the past two days and I knew that they had had a special friendship, after his reminiscing he turned to me and had a look on his face that I'm sure if I could remember my father, would make me think of him.

"Edward Masen you are going to the memorial service—trust me, you will regret it if you do not. No matter what you are, no son will forgive himself for missing his mother's funeral," he spoke with demanding obedience. "The Cab is waiting, come on..."

I looked at the room one last time, knowing that I would return in a few short hours. Gently, I shut the French door, and followed Carlisle down the stairs and after making sure that the house was securely locked, into the waiting Taxi Cab.

"Edward? Edward Masen?" A voice called from behind as we sat towards the back of the church, crammed with people who had all gone through series of loss in the last few days. I turned behind to see a boy who was probably around my age, with dark brown hair and matching eyes. "Edward, what's with your eyes?" the boy asked as he walked to where I was sitting.

"I lost my sight in the illness," I replied monotone, not wanting to give an explanation. He didn't want one, he just continued on. "It's good to see you pulled through—I heard that you had gone into the hospital, I'm sorry about your family. Nearly lost my brother we did, but Charles has always been lucky," the boy said sympathetically "Can I sit next to you? Mother was still recovering or she would have been her as well;" I had barely said any words to this boy as he just sat down in the chair next to me.

He smelled like a fine meal, yet I wasn't hungry and that was probably a good thing. Carlisle said that the blood that was left in my eyes would probably sustain me until we reached where ever we where headed.

"Who are you?" I asked, my dark shades hiding his facial features, I could only make out his hair and his eyes. "Did you loose your memory in the hospital Edward? I'm Jimmy, Jimmy Swan, remember from School? We had English Literature and Latin together..." I nodded as though I remembered him faintly and yet He could have been my brother and I wouldn't have known it.

"Well, we had those classes, I'm not heading back when the school reopens are you?" he talked too much I decided.

"No, I'm going with my uncle up north for a while to clear my lungs a bit—" I started, reciting the story that Carlisle had fed me for the past day.

"Really me too," he cut in. "My mother's sending me to my Grandfather's house in Washington, says we've been in the city to long, need to get some good clean air and no place better then Washington State huh? If you ever get up there, look up us Swans eh?"

I was sure that he would go on and on but thankfully the Service was beginning. "_Friends—Neighbors, Fine People of Chicago, we gather together as brothers and sisters to mourn the loss of the thousands that have walked on to the presence of our Lord in the past week. . ." _

I couldn't remember if I was religious growing up but the service seemed to drag on. Finally the names began to be read from a list as a church bell tolled in the rafters above us. . . . _Michael M. Allison. . Millicent Beverly Benders...Samuel Richard Boster...Christopher Luke Cater... _I watched as Jimmy seemed to shake his head as some names where read. Finally when we reached Robert_ James _he looked at me and whispered, "That was once our whole lacrosse team...I'm all that's left, We're all that's left..."

The names continued. "_Sherrie Kathryn Kelley" _I said a small good bye to the girl that I could hardly remember, I think she had red hair, and she always listened at the door when I played the piano for mother; more names_. . . . Katharine Leanne Luscot. . . Harry T. Marks. . ._the time had come, My parent's where approaching.

I don't think I will remember what happened a week ago, when all these tragic events happened. I won't remember my best friend, the school I attended or even watching Mother and Father dancing in the parlor, probably in a manor that would have embarrassed me, to rag time but I will remember until the day that the world ends,

"_Edward Andrew Masen II . . . Elizabeth Sophia Taylor-Masen"_

The Church bells chimed their mournful chime, and I turned up as though I was staring at the ceiling. Through my covered eyes I looked up and mouthed a silent sentence that I hoped could somehow reach the floors of heaven that where releasing their tears through rain...

"_Goodbye Mother—" I_ silently prayed, as I looked out the window and then towards my new found Uncle, awaiting what hand of Cards life was going to deal me next.

* * *

**AN: And Thus Ends 1918. I know I'm going to get some comment on Jimmy Swan—if you want to believe he's one of Bella's great-great-whatevers, you can. I just wanted to pull someone in there from the end to show what was also going on in the city. I sorta feel like I should apologize to Jimmy, I felt like he was a Mike Newton for a while...oh well. Thank you so much for reading this little story of mine . I may continue on with this story, but this is how I had wanted to end 1918. It was Elizabeth's story. Elizabeth's view of the events leading up to the Influenza, the actual influenza. This is meant to be Elizabeth's view of Edward. Who knows, maybe we'll get Carlisle's version of Wisconson after this... young vampires do the darndest things eh?Oh well. Thanks for the reviews and the constant advice. I'll See y'all in another story!**

**--Kait Hobbit.**


End file.
